FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY    HIM    TO 

THE    LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/bookofpoOOphil 


\ 


thb       L» APR  16 1936 

BOOK  OF  POPULAR  SONGS, 


COMPENDIUM  OF  THE  BEST 


SENTIMENTAL,    COMIC,   NEGRO,   IRISH,    SCOTCH, 

NATIONAL,  PATRIOTIC,  MILITARY,  NAVAL, 

SOCIAL,    CONVIVIAL   AND    PATHETIC 

SONGS,  BALLADS  AND  MELODIES, 


BY  THE  xMOST  CELEBRATED  OPERA  AND  BALLAD 

SINGERS,  NEGRO  MINSTRELS  AND  COMIC 

VOCALISTS  OF  THE  DAY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
G.    G.    EVANS,    PUBLISHER, 

No.    439    CHESTNUT    STREET. 

1861. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  IS  59,  by 

G.    G.    EVANS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  oi 
Pennsylvania. 


CONTENTS. 


F1GB 

A  Mother's  Love 17 

A  Cottage  by  the  Sea 23 

A  Parody  on  the  Last  Rose  of  Summer 26 

All's  for  the  Best 37 

A  song  of  the  Oak..„ 61 

Away,  away,  to  the  Mountain's  Brow 77 

Ah  !  Mourn  Her  Not 86 

Across  the  mountains,  Ho 89 

Am  I  not  fondly  thine  own 89 

Annot  Lyle 92 

American  Star,  The 127 

Age  of  Progress 132 

American  Boy,  The 144 

Angel's  Whisper,  The 170 

Annie  Laurie 178 

Auld  Lang  Syne 190 

Alls  Well 205 

A  Yankee  ship  and  a  Yankee  crew 205 

Anchor's  Weighed,  The 215 

A  Wet  Sheet  and  a  Flowing  Sea 215 

A  Health  to  the  Outward  Bound 216 

A  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave 218 

Author  and  Cobbler 249 

A  Glass  is  good  and  a  Lass  is  good 267 

Aint  I  glad  to  get  out  of  the  Wilderness 287 

A  Few  Days 300 

Ahoo!  Ahoo  !....  305 

(3) 


4  CONTENTS. 

TAOB 

By  the  Sad  Sea  Waves 24 

Bell  Brandon 28 

Batti,  Batti 39 

Be  Mine,  Dear  Maid 42 

Behold  how  Brightly  Breaks  the  Morning 44 

Bird  Song 73 

Beautiful  Star 94 

Battle  Song,  from  Norma 112 

Bosting  Tea  Party : 139 

Brother  Jonathan 145 

Bryan  O'Linn 168 

Bold  Soldier  Boy 174 

Bonnie  Jean 193 

Bruce's  Address 194 

Banks  of  Allan  Water 197 

Ben  Bolt * 204 

Barney,  Leave  the  girls  Alone 227 

Billy  Barlow 248 

Bag  of  Nails 254 

Belle  of  Baltimore 302 

Backside  of  Albany 208 

Bachelors' Hall 159 


Canadian  Boat  Song 14 

Come,  Maiden,  with  Me 20 

Come  Brave  the  Sea 39 

Chide  Me,  Chide  Me! 39 

Come,  Oh  Come  With  Me 45 

Come,  Come  Away , 51 

Cavalier,  The 57 

Come,  Arouse  thee 70 

Come,  Listen  to  my  Song 93 

Cavaliers'  Battle  Call,  The 109 

Come,  strike  the  bold  Anthem , 127 

Columbia's  our  Happy  Land 130 

Columbia  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean 138 

Cross-keen  Lawn 169 

Capting  Kydde 199 

Convivial  Song,  Success  to  Toddy 262 

Cove  what  Spouts,  The 268 


CONTENTS.  5 

Mil 

Come,  Darkies,  Listen  to  my  Story 292 

Camptown  Races 296 

Drink  ye  to  Her  that  each  Loves  Best 41 

Do  They  miss  me  at  Home 49 

Don't  be  Angry,  Mother 68 

Do  I  not  Prote  thee 82 

Death  of  Osceola 99 

Darlin'  Ould  Stick 156 

Don't  be  addicted  to  Drinking 235 

Days  when  I  was  Hard  Up , 273 

Dolly  Day 285 

Dan  Tucker 289 

Dearest  Mae 301 

Days  when  this  Old  Nigger  was  young,  The 315 

Ever  of  Thee 13 

Ever  Be  Happy 55 

Ellen  Bayne 72 

Erin  is  my  Home 151 

Exile  of  Erin ^ 160 

Erin  Mavourneen 171 

Ethiopian  Medley .- 313 

Ever  be  Happy,  Negro  Chorus 308 

Farewell  to  the  Home  of  my  Childhood 63 

Farm  Maid  and  the  Fop,  The 123 

Flag  of  our  Union,  The , 128 

Freedom  of  Elections,  The 143 

Flaming  O'Flanigan 158 

Flower  of  Ellerslie 189 

Flow  Gently,  Sweet  Afton 189 

Far,  far  upon  the  Sea 203 

Far  o'er  the  Deep  Blue  Sea 219 

Few  Days 300 

Gentle  Annie 19 

Gaffer  Green 46 

Gascon  Vespers 70 

Golden  Girl,  The 78 

Gentle  Zitella 98 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

God  Bless  the  Farmer's  Toil 121 

Groves  of  Blarney,  The 155 

Gow's  Farewell  to  Whiskey,  0 192 

Grieving's  a  Folly 213 

Gunpowder  Tea 223 

Gawkey  Shanks 234 

Great  Hen  Convention 265 

Gentle  Jennie  Gray 281 

Gum  Tree  Canoe 298 

Gal  from  de  South 304 

Good-hye,  Sally,  Dear 309 

Home,  Sweet  Home 15 

Here's  a  Health  to  all  Good  Lasses 28 

Hazel  Dell 30 

Helen  is  the  Fairest  Flower 75 

Home  Again 84 

He  Came  Not 87 

Happy  Birdling 95 

Hard  Times,  Come  again  no  More 105 

Harvester's  Joy 124 

Hail  Columbia 131 

Harp  that  once  through  Tara's  Halls,  The 163 

Hail  to  the  Chief. 196 

Harry  Bluff 212 

Have  you  seen  my  Sister 231 

Here's  Success  to  Toddy , 262 

Hard  Times 272 

Here's  to  the  Maiden ~  279 

Hop  De  Dooden  Doo 316 

In  Happy  Moments 19 

I  am  the  Bayadere 21 

Ivy  Green,  The 64 

In  this  Old  Chair 66 

I  Dreamt  that  I  dwelt  in  Marble  Halls 73 

I  Have  something  sweet  to  tell  You 87 

Indian  Girl,  The 94 

Indian  Warrior's  Grave,  The 96 

Indian  Hunter,  The 97 

Independence  Day 137 


CONTENTS.  ,  7 

PAGI 

Immortal  Washington 146 

Irish  Wedding 161 

Irish  Love  Letter,  The 171 

Irishman's  Shanty,  The 172 

Ingle  Side,  The. 193 

I  Wish  I  was  in  Yankee  Land 256 

I  Come  from  Old  Virginny 311 

Jinny  Green 47 

Jenny  Lind's  Bird  Song 73 

Jeanie  with  the  Light  Brown  Ilair 108 

Jeannette  and  Jeannot 115 

John  Anderson  my  Joe 195 

Just  So 250 

Kiss  but  never  Tell 38 

Kissing  through  the  Bars 107 

Kathleen  Mavourueen 152 

Kitty  Tyrrell 153 

Kiss  Me  Quick  and  Go 298 

Love's  True  Elixir 20 

Let  us  speak  of  a  Man  as  we  find  Him 25 

Last  Rose  of  Summer,  The 26 

Light  of  Other  Days,  The 32 

Let  us  all  Help  One  Another 34 

Listen  to  the  Mocking  Bird 36 

Lone  Starry  Hours 37 

Like  the  Gloom  of  Night  Retiring 40 

List,  and  I'll  Find,  Love 44 

Let  the  Toast  he  Dear  Woman 52 

Lulu  is  our  Darling  Pride 60 

Little  Nell 62 

Lords  of  Creation,  The 65 

Lucy  is  a  Golde*  Girl 73 

Approach 85 

Lilly  Dale ■ 96 

Life  let  us  Cherish 97 

Love's  Ritornella 98 

Love  Not 104 

Long  Life  and  Success  to  the  Farmer 113 


8  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Little  Blacksmith,  The 118 

Larry  O'Brian 165 

Light  Barque,  The 217 

Larboard  Watch , 217 

Land  Ho 219 

Lazy  Club 251 

Love  Struck  Quaker 255 


My  Boyhood's  Home 15 

My  Native  Highland  Home 17 

May  Dew,  The 21 

Maggie  by  my  Side 27 

My  Home  shall  be  the  Waves 32 

My  Barque  is  Bounding  near 34 

My  Pretty  Jane 35 

Morning  its  Sweets  is  Flinging 36 

Meet  me  in  the  Willow  Glen 40 

My  Mother  Dear 42 

My  Sister  Dear 43 

My  Own  Native  Land 59 

My  Helen  is  the  Fairest  Flower 75 

Minstrel's  Return  from  the  War,  The 79 

My  Cot  beside  the  Sea 80 

My  Boat  is  on  the  Shore 83 

May  Morning 85 

My  Soul  in  one  Unbroken  Sigh 104 

March  to  the  Battle  Field 110 

Mother,  He's  Going  Away 154 

Molly  Bawn 163 

My  Love  is  like  the  Red,  Red  Rose 187 

Macgregors'  Gathering 187 

Maltese  Boat  Song,  The 207 

My  Grandfather  was  a  Wonderful  Man 240 

My  Grandmother  was  a  Wonderful  Dame 243 

My  Mary  has  the  Longest  Nose 254 

Mighty  Dollar  or  Two 275 

Masaa's  in  de  cold,  cold  Ground 284 

Merry  Sleigh  Bells,  The '. 295 

Mary  Blaue 301 

Medley 313 


CONTENTS.  9 

PAOI 

'Neath  this  Leafy  Shade  Reclining 40 

No  !  No  ! r 92 

Norah  M 'Shane.... 106 

Not  a  Drum  was  Heard 11 -A 

Nervous  Family,  The 245 

Nowadays 246 

Nelly  Gray 283 

Nelly  was  a  Lady 297 

Nancy  Till 304 

Negro  Medley 306 

Nigger's  History  of  the  World 311 

On  the  Lake  where  Drooped  the  "Willow 22 

Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night 45 

Old  Dog  Tray 59 

Old  Arm  Chair,  The 61 

Oh!  Share  my  Cottage 63 

Old  Play-Ground,  The 68 

Oh,  would  I  were  a  Boy  Again 81 

Oh,  do  not  Mingle 82 

Old  Farm  House,  The 117 

Old  Oaken  Bucket,  The 119 

Our  Union  Bight  or  WroDg 129 

Oh,  Why  left  I  my  Hame ." 177 

Oh,  Whistle,  and  I'll  come  to  you  my  Lad 188 

Our  Mary  Ann 267 

'•Out,"  John 277 

Old  Folks  at  Home 282 

Oh,  Susanna 290 

Old  Kentucky  Home 308 

Old  Bob  Ridley 314 

Parody  on  the  Last  Rose  of  Summer 26 

Prairie  Lea,  The 90 

Parody  on  Whistle,  and  I'll  Come  to  You 1S8 

Plough  Boy  at  Sea,  The 202 

Pilot,  The  220 

Popular  Convivial  Song 262 

Philosophy 270 

Quilting,  The 242 

Queer  Saying?  now  are  all  the  Go 259 


10  CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

Rosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower ,     18 

Rose  of  Allandale,  The 41 

Recline,  Dear  Boss 43 

Ready  Barber 43 

Rock  Beside  the  Sea,  The 65 

Rapture  Dwelling,  The 78 

Reaper  of  the  Plain,  The 122 

Relics  of  Washington,  The 132 

Red,  White,  and  Blue 138 

Rambler  from  Clare,  The 148 

Row,  Row,  Homeward,  &c 222 

Raging  Kanawl 257 

Rosa  Lee 290 

Rosa  May 293 

Say  a  Kind  Word  when  you  Can 29 

Shells  of  the  Ocean 31 

See  our  Oars  with  Feathered  Spray 31 

Swift  as  the  Flash 52 

Some  One  to  Love ". 67 

Swiss  Boy 70 

Song  of  the  Sexton 75 

She  Wore  a  Wreath  of  Roses 76 

Silver  Moon 88 

Slumber's  Golden  Chain 91 

Star  of  the  Evening 94 

Soldier's  Tear,  The 109 

Soldier's  Last  Sigh,  The , 112 

Soldier's  Last  Bugle,  The 112 

Soldier's  Dream,  The 113 

Song  of  the  Farmer,  The 120 

Sweet  the  Hour 122 

Star  Spangled  Banner 126 

Squeak  the  Fife,  and  Beat  the  Drum 137 

Strong  Lads  of  Labor,  The 141 

Since  I've  been  in  the  Army 164 

Savourneen  Deelish 171 

Scotch  Lad"s  Song  in  America 179 

Sailier  Boy,  The 206 

Sailor's  Last  Whistle,  The 209 

Siege  of  Pittsburgh,  The 209 


CONTENTS.  11 

PAQB 

Sailor  Boy's  Dream,  The 210 

Sea,  The 2U 

Song  of  the  Turf. 229 

Silent  Sana 

Singing  Darkies 292 

Sugar  Cane  Green 312 

The  dearest  spot  on  earth  to  me,  is  Home,  Sweet  Home 14 

The  Prairie  Flower 18 

The  May  Dew 21 

There'll  be  no  Sorrow  There 25 

The  Last  Rose  of  Summer 26 

Thou  art  Gone  from  my  Gaze 29 

The  Light  of  Other  Days 32 

The  Watchman 33 

The  Voice  of  Her  I  Love 35 

The  Lone  Starry  Hours 37 

The  Rose  of  Allandale 41 

There's  Room  enough  for  All 50 

'Tis  Better  to  Laugh  than  be  Sighing 54 

'Tis  Home  where  the  Heart  is 56 

'Twas  a  Beautiful  Night 57 

Twinkling  Stars 53 

Thou  art  Mine  Own,  Love 66 

There's  a  Good  Time  Coming 69 

Twenr  71 

The  Bonny  Boat 77 

The  Beating  of  my  Owu  Heart 

Take  me  Home  to  Die 100 

They  Ask  me  if  I  Ever  Weep 102 

The  Song  my  Mother  Loved  to  Sing 116 

The  Farmer  Sat  in  his  Easy  Chair 125 

The  Bold  Privateer 147 

key  in  the  Jug 152 

172 

e's  Farewell 175 

The  Four  Leaved  Shamrock 176 

The  Lass  wi'  the  Bonnie  Blue  E'en 190 

The  Tempest 221 

Times  and  Fashions  of  I860 

Trust  to  Lack 230 


12  CONTENTS. 

Pi*. 

Trust  to  Pluck 231 

Things  I  don't  Like  to  See 247 

The  Days  when  I  was  Hard  Up 273 

Taking  Tea  in  the  Arbor 276 

Unfurl  the  Glorious  Banner 133 

Uncle  Sam's  Farm 136 

Unlucky  Fellow,  The 237 

Yedrai  Carino 44 

Vilkins  and  his  Dinah 317 

When  the  Golden  Stars  are  Beaming 16 

"Willie's  on  the  Dark  Blue  Sea 23 

What  Fairy  Like  Music 33 

Woodmau,  Spare  that  Tree , 48 

What  is  Home  Without  a  Mother 50 

Willie,  we  have  Missed  You 53 

We  Meet  by  Chance 56 

When  Wakes  the  Sun 90 

When  Bound  in  Slumber's  Golden  Chain 91 

When  the  Trump  of  Fame Ill 

When  a  Little  Farm  we  Keep 124 

Widow  Machree 149 

Wid  a  Dhudieen 150 

Within  a  mile  of  Edinboro' 185 

What's  a'  the  Steer,  Kimmer 195 

White  Squall,  The '212 

What  are  You  Going  to  Stand 259 

When  I  was  out  a  Sleighing 260 

We're  all  Cutting 269 

What  is  a  Bachelor  Like 278 

Wait  for  the  Wagon 2S8 

Witching  Dinah  Crow , 299 

Ye  Sons  of  Freedom 134 

Young  America 142 

You're  Going  to  the  Wars 162 

Yankee  Ship,  Ac 205 

Yankee  Midshipman 221 

Yankee  Manufacture 256 

Yaller  Busha  Belle 293 

Yellow  Rose  of  Texas 310 


SONGS  OF  SENTIMENT,  &c 


EVER  OF  THEE. 

A    NEW    AND    POPULAR    BALLAD. 


Ever  of  thee  I'm  fondly  dreaming, 

Thy  gentle  voice  my  spirit  can  cheer, 
Thou  wert  the  star  that  mildly  beaming, 

Shone  o'er  my  path  when  all  was  dark  and  drear. 
Still  in  my  heart,  thy  form  I  cherish, 

Every  kind  thought  like  a  bird  flies  to  thee  \ 
Ah  !  never  till  life  and  memory  perish 

Can  I  forget  how  dear  thou  art  to  me, 
Morn,  noon,  and  night,  where  e'er  I  may  be. 

Fondly  I'm  dreaming  ever  of  thee, 

Fondly  I'm  dreaming  ever  of  thee. 

Ever  of  thee,  when  sad  and  lonely, 

Wandering  afar  my  soul  joy'd  to  dwell; 
Ah  !  then  I  felt,  and  I  loved  thee  only, 

All  seem'd  to  fade  before  affection's  spell. 
Years  have  not  chill'd  the  love  I  cherish, 

True  as  the  stars  hath  my  heart  been  to  thee  ', 
Ah  !  never  till  life  and  memory  perish, 

Can  I  forget  how  dear  thou  art  to  me. 
Morn,  noon,  and  night,  where  e'er  I  may  be, 

Fondly  I'm  dreaming  ever  of  thee, 

Fondly  I'm  dreaming  ever  of  t\\QQ. 

(13) 


14 


SONCS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


THE  CANADIAN  BOAT  SONG. 

Faintly  as  tolls  the  evening  chime 
Our  voices  keep  tuue  .and  our  oars  keep  time, 
Soon  as  the  wood  on  shore  looks  dim, 
We'll  sing  at  St.  Ann's  our  parting  hymn. 
Row,  brothers  row,  the  stream  runs  fast, 
The  rapids  are  near  and  the  daylight's  cast. 

Why  should  we  yet  our  sails  unfurl  ? 
There's  not  a  breath  the  blue  wave  to  curl, 
But  when  the  breeze  blows  off  the  shore, 
Oh  !  sweetly  we'll  rest  on  our  weary  oar. 
Blow,  breezes  blow,  the  stream  runs  fast, 
The  rapids  are  near,  and  the  daylight's  past. 

Utawa's  tide  !  the  trembling  moon 
Shall  see  us  float  over  thy  surges  soon, 
Saint  of  the  Green  Isle  !  hear  our  prayers, 
Grant  us  cool  heavens  and  favoring  airs. 
Blow,  breezes  blow,  the  stream  runs  fast, 
The  rapids  are  near  and  the  daylkjht's  past. 

X        Moore. 

THE  DEAREST  SPOT  ON  EARTH  TO  ME, 
IS  HOME,  SWEET  HOME. 


Sung  with  great  applause  by  Miss  Adelaide  Philipps. 

The  dearest  spot  of  earth  to  me, 

Is  home,  sweet  home, 
The  fairy  land  I  long  to  se  e; 

Is  home,  sweet  home. 
There  how  chained  the  sense  of  hearing, 
There  where  hearts  are  so  endearing, 
All  the  world  is  not  so  cheering, 

As  home,  sweet  home. 
The  dearest  spot  on  earth  to  me 

Is  home,  sweet  home, 
The  fairy  land  I  longed  to  see, 

Is  home,  sweet  home. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  15 

Fve  taught  my  heart  the  way  to  prize 

My  home,  sweet  home, 
I've  learned  to  look  with  lovers'  eyes, 

On  home,  sweet  home. 
There  where  vows  are  truly  plighted, 
There  where  hearts  are  so  united, 
All  the  world  besides  I've  slighted, 

For  home,  sweet  home. 
Oh !  the  dearest  spot  on  earth  to  me, 

Is  home,  sweet  home, 
The  fairy  land,  &c. 

MY  BOYHOOD'S  HOME. 
"'**  My  boyhood's  home,  I  see  thy  hills, 

I  see  thy  valley's  changeful  green, 
And  manhood's  eye  a  tear-drop  fills 

Tho'  years  have  rolled  since  thee  I've  seen. 
I  come  to  thee  from  war's  dread  school, 
A  warrior  stern  o'er  thee  to  rule, 
But  as  I  gaze  on  each  lov'd  plain 
I  feel  I  am  a  boy  again. 
To  the  war  steed  adieu — 

To  the  trumpet  farewell, 
To  the  pomp  of  the  palace 

The  proud  gilded  dome, 
For  the  green  scenes  of  childhood  I  bid  you  farewell, 
The  soldier  returns  to  his  boyhood's  loved  home. 

HOME,  SWEET  HOME. 

Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  tho'  we  may  roam, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble  there's  no  place  like  home; 

A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 

"Which  seek  through  the  wide  world,  is  ne'er  met  with  elsewhere. 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home. 
An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain, 
Oh  !  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again ; 
"With  the  birds  singing  gaily  that  came  at  my  call, 
Give  me  them  with  that  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  all. 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home,  &c. 

John  Howard  Payne, 


1C  SONGS    OP    SENTIMENT. 


"WHEN  THE  GOLDEN  STARS  ARE  BEAMING. 


As  sung  b}r  Madame  Parodi. 

When  the  golden  stars  are  beaming, 

On  the  heaven's  dome, 
Am  I  still  and  sadly  dreaming, 

Of  my  distant  home. 

In  a  country,  strange  and  endless, 

Have  my  pleasures  gone, 
And  I  wander  still  and  friendless, 

Sadly  and  alone. 

And  affliction  deep  and  growing, 

Goes  where'er  I  roam, 
Longing,  longing,  still  and  glowing, 

Draws  the  wanderer  home. 

Nowhere  is  the  breeze  so  fragrant, 

And  the  sun  so  bright, 
As  in  thee,  my  country  distant, 

On  the  mountain  height. 

Here  no  herd  is  gently  mounting, 

All  the  hills  alone, 
Nowhere  is  the  Alp-horn  sounding, 

Nor  the  herdsman's  song ! 

Lo  !  if  sun  or  stars  are  beaming, 

In  the  heaven's  dome, 
Am  I  still  and  sadly  dreaming 

Of  my  distant  home  ! 

And  so  are  afflictions  going 

With  me  hand  in  hand  ! 
Longing  draws  me  still  and  glowing, 

Home  to  Switzerland — 

Proch. 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT.  i7 


MY  NATIVE  HIGHLAND  HOME. 

My  Highland  home,  where  tempests  blow, 

And  cold  thy  wintry  looks, 
Thy  mountains  crown'd  with  driven  snow, 

And  ice-bound  are  thy  brooks ; 
But  colder  far  the  exile's  heart, 

However  far  he'd  roam, 
To  whom  these  words  no  joy  impart, 

My  native  Highland  home. 
Then  gang  along  with,  me  to  Scotland  dear, 

We  ne'er  again  will  roam, 
And  with  thy  smile  so  bonny  cheer, 

My  native  Highland  home. 

When  summer  comes,  the  heather  bell 

Shall  tempt  thy  feet  to  rove, 
The  cushat  dove  within  the  dell 

Invites  to  peace  and  love  ; 
"For  blithesome  is  the  break  of  day 

And  sweet's  the  bonny  broom, 
And  pure  the  trickling  rills  that  play, 

Around  my  Highland  home. 
Then  gang  along  with  me  to  Scotland  dear, 

We  ne'er  again  will  roam, 
But  with  thy  smile  so  bonny  cheer, 

My  native  Highland  home. 


A  MOTHER'S  LOVE. 

A  mother's  love,  a  mother's  love, 
The  dew  that  falls  in  opening  life, 

When  life  is  most  like  Eden's  grove, 
With  pure  and  playful  life. 

Our  earliest  joy,  our  latest  thought, 

Where  e'er  we  rove — where  e'er  we  rove, 

Thou  only  good  of  earth  unbought, 
We  think  of  thee — a  mother's  love, 
We  think  of  thee — a  mother's  love. 


18  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


ROSALIE,  THE  PRAIRIE  FLOWER. 

On  the  distant  prairie,  where  the  heather  wild, 
In  its  quiet  beauty  lived  and  smiled, 
Stands  a  little  cottage,  and  a  creeping  vine, 
Loves  around  its  porch  to  twine. 
In  that  peaceful  dwelling  was  a  lovely  child, 
With  her  blue  eyes  beaming,  soft  and  mild, 
And  the  wavy  ringlets  of  her  flaxen  hair, 
Floating  in  the  summer  air. 

Fair  as  a  lily,  joyous  and  free, 

Light  of  that  prairie  home  was  she, 

Ev'ry  one  who  knew  her  felt  the  gentle  power 

Of  Rosalie,  the  prairie  flower. 

On  that  distant  prairie,  when  the  days  were  long, 
Tripping  like  a  fairy,  sweet  her  song, 
With  the  sunny  blossoms  and  the  birds  at  play, 
Beautiful  and  bright  as  they. 
When  the  twilight  shadows  gathered  in  the  west, 
And  the  voice  of  nature  sunk  to  rest, 
Like  a  cherub  kneeling  seem'd  that  lovely  child, 
With  her  gentle  eyes  so  mild. 
Fair  as  a  lily,  &c. 

But  the  summer  faded,  and  the  chilly  blast 

O'er  that  happy  cottage  swept  at  last, 

Where  the  autumn  song  birds  woke  the  dewy  morn, 

Little  prairie  flower  was  gone ; 

For  the  angels  whispered  softly  in  her  ear, 

"  Child,  thy  father  calls  thee,  stay  not  here," 

And  they  gently  bore  her,  robed  in  spotless  white, 

To  the  blissful  home  of  light. 

Tho'  we  shall  never  look  on  her  more, 
Gone  with  the  love  and  joy  she  bore, 
Far  away  she's  blooming  in  a  fadeless  bower, 
Sweet  Rosalie,  the  prairie  flower. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  19 


GENTLE  ANNIE. 

Written   and    composed  by  Stephen    C.  Foster.     Music  published  by 
Firth  A  Pond,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Thou  wilt  come  no  more,  gentle  Annie, 

Like  a  flower  thy  spirit  did  depart, 
Thou  art  gone,  alas  !  like  the  many 

That  have  bloomed  in  the  summer  of  my  heart. 
Shall  we  never  more  behold  thee, 

Never  hear  thy  winning  voice  again, 
When  the  spring  time  comes,  gentle  Annie, 

And  the  wild  flowers  are  scattered  o'er  the  plain  ? 
Cho?-us — Shall  we  never  more  behold  thee,  &c. 

"We  have  roamed  and  loved  'mid  the  bowers, 
When  thy  downy  cheeks  were  in  the  bloom, 

Now  I  stand  alone  'mid  the  flowers, 

While  they  mingle  their  perfumes  o'er  thy  tomb. 
Shall  we  never  more,  &c. 

Ah  !  the  hours  grow  sad  while  I  ponder, 
Ne^r  the  silent  spot  where  thou  wast  laid  ; 

And  my  heart  bows  down  when  I  wander, 

By  the  streams  and  meadows  where  we  stray'd. 
Shall  we  never  more  behold  thee,  &c. 

IN  HAPPY  MOMENTS. 
In  happy  moments  day  by  day 

The  sands  of  life  may  pass, 
In  swift  but  tranquil  tide  away, 

From  Time's  unerring  glass  ; 
Yet  hopes  we  used  as  bright  to  deem, 

Remembrance  will  recall, 
Whose  pure  and  whose  unfading  beam 

Is  dearer  than  them  all. 
Though  anxious  eyes  upon  us  gaze, 

And  hearts  with  fondness  beat, 
Whose  smile  upon  each  feature  plays, 

With  truthfulness  replete ; 
Some  thoughts  none  others  can  replace, 

Remembrance  will  recall, 
Which  in  the  blight  of  years  we  trace, 

Is  dearer  than  them  all. 

From  Maritana. 


20  SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 

COME,  MAIDEN,  WITH  ME. 

Music  published  by  F;rth  &  Pond,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Come,  maiden,  with  me       *  the  ■stlvery^'sea,    ■  v 
My  bark  is  impatiently  wt     ng  for- thee, 
The  bright  stars  are  smiling  io  s^fcftfijfly^pear, 

And  the  light  waves  are  dancing  to  welcome  thee  here ;  , 

Cool  zephyrs  are  wooing  thy  ringtets  to  come, 
And  wanton  with  them  on  our  own  ocean  ljome,  *• 

Where  the  sea-birds  shall  wake  thee  when 'danger  is  near, 
And  their  gajBlols  shall  teach  thee  to  lau*gh  at  thy/fear. 
Come,  mjiPlen,  with  me,  &c.  jri'- 

My  bark  is  as  swift  as  the  wind,'  when  ihe  deep,  ' 

And  wild  leaping  ocean  wav^Jock  tkem  to  sleepy    ,      ~ 

And  stout  as  the  billow  she  stems  in  her^pri'de, 

To  bear  thee  afar  on  its  bosom,  mj  bride. 

Her  anchor's  aweigh,  for  the  far  coral  groves, 

Where  the  mermaidens  sing  of  their  shorts  ancrtheir  loves } 

Then  linger  not  here  on  this  dull  shore ialotie, 

For  its  haunts  are  unfit  for  thee,  beautiful  one. 

And  when  o'er  the  wave  we  are  bound^ng^along,     .^ 
'Ere  the  land  disappear^  thou  shalt  wajbl%a  songf    U .  s 
Of  farewell  to  the  scenes  we  leave  joyless-behind, 
Whose  soft  notes  shall  dwell  on  the  whigs  of  the  wind, 
And  its  burden  shall  be  as  it  floats  on  the  breeze 
Of  beauty  and  love  and  a  life  on  the  seas. 
Then  hasten,  dear  maiden,  o'er  the  star  lighted  sea, 
My  proud  bark  shall  bear  thee  to  freedom  with  me. 

"LOVE'S  TRUE  ELIXIR." 

A  popular  Song  from  "  The  Love  Spell." 

With  a  tender  look  I'll  charm  him, 

With  a  modest  smile  invite  him, 
With  a  tear  or  sigh  alarm  him, 

With  a  fond  caress  excite  him. 
Never  yet  was  man  so  mulish, 

That  I  could  not  make  him  yield,  sir, 
Nemorino's  fate's  decided, 

When  Adina  takes  the  field,  sir. 
My  receipt  is  in  my  eyes, 
There  love's  true  elixir  lies. 


t 


SONtfSs   OP   SENTIMENT.  21 

THE  MAY  DEW. 

Oh  !  come  with  me,  love,  I  am  seeking 

A  spell  in  the  young  year'      owers, 
The  magical  May  dew  is  w  *      og 

Its  charm  o'er  the  sum%m?i  bowers. 
Its  pearls  ar^e  more  precious  than  those  they  find 

In  jeweled  India's  sea, 
For  the  dew  dr*bps  might  serve  to  bind, 

Thy  heart  for  ever  to  me.  **  4, 

Oh !  come  with  me,  love,  I  am  seeking 

A  spell  in' the  young  year's  flowers, 
The  magical  May  dew  is  weeping, 

Its  charm,  o'er  the  summer  bowers. 
Then  come  love,  &c.    .^|fc 
Haste,  or  the  charm  will'be  missing, 

We  seek  in  the  May  dew  now, 
For  soon  the  warm  sun- will  be  kissing, 

The  bright  drops  from  blossom  and  bough. 
And  the  charm  is  so  tender  the  May  dew  sheds, 

Or  the  wild  flowers'  delicate  dyes, 
That  e'er  with  the  touch  of  the  sunbeam  'tis  said, 

The  mystical  influence  flies.  6. 
Then  come  with  me,  love,  I  am  seeking 

A  spell  in  the  young  year's  flowers, 
The  magical  May  dew  is  weeping, 

Its  charm  o'er. the  summer  bowers. 
Then  come  love,  come  love, 

Come  love  to  me,  &c. 

I  AM  THE  BAYADERE. 

Madame  Anna  Bishop's  Celebrated  Song. 
I  am  the  Bayadere, 

And  the  gay  tamborine, 
Tra  la  la  la  la ! 

Drives  me  from  all  care, 
Tra  la  la  la  la  ! 

As  I  dance  on  the  green. 
Born  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges, 

Young  pleasure  is  my  guide, 
Aod  bless  him  that  ranges 

The  forest  at  my  side. 
Tra  la  la  la  la  I 


22  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

ON  THE  LAKE  WHERE  DROOPED  THE  WILLOW. 

On  the  lake  where  drooped  the  willow, 

Long  time  ago, 
Where  the  rock  threw  back  the  billow, 

Brighter  than  snow, 
There  dwelt  a  maid  beloved  and  cherished, 

By  high  and   low, 
But  with  the  Autumn  leaf  she  perished, 

Long  time  ago. 

Bock  and  tree  and  flowing  water, 

Long  time  ago, 
Bird  and  bee  and  blossom  taught  her, 

Love's  spell  to  know. 
While  to  my  fond  words  she  listened, 

Murmuring  low, 
Tenderly  her  dove  eye  glistened, 

Long  time  ago. 

Mingled  were  our  hearts  for  ever, 

Long  time  ago, 
Can  I  now  forget  her  never  ? 

No,  lost  one,  no. 
To  her  grave  these  tears  are  given, 

Ever  to  flow, 
She's  the  star  I  missed  from  heaven, 

Long  time  ago. 

George  P.  Morris. 


WILLIE'S  ON  THE  DARK  BLUE  SEA. 

Music  published  by  Oliver  Ditson,  227  Washington  St.,  Boston. 

My  Willie's  on  the  dark  blue  sea, 

He's  gone  far  o'er  the  main, 
And  many  a  weary  day  will  pass, 

Ere  he'll  come  back  again, 
Then  blow  ye  gentle  winds  o'er  the  dark  blue  sea, 

Bid  the  storm  king  stay  his  hand, 
And  bring  my  Willie  back  to  mc; 

;Tis  his  dear  native  land. 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  28 

I  love  my  "Willie  best  of  all, 

He  e'er  was  true  to  me — 
But  lonesome,  dreary,  are  the  hours, 

Since  he  has  gone  to  sea. 
There's  danger  on  the  waters  now 

I  hear  the  bleak  hills  cry, 
And  moaning  voices  seem  to  speak 

From  out  the  cloudy  sky. 

I  see  the  vivid  lightning's  flash, 

And  hark  !  the  thunders  roar, — 
Oh  !  Father,  save  my  Willie  from 
The  storm  king's  mighty  power. 
And  as  she  spoke  the  lightning  ceased, 

Hushed  was  the  thunder's  roar, 
And  Willie  clasped  her  in  his  arms 
To  roam  the  seas  no  more. 
Chorus — Now  gentle  winds  o'er  the  dark  blue  sea, 
No  more  we'll  stay  thy  hand, 
Since  Willie's  safe  at  home  with  me, 
In  his  own  dear  native  land. 

A  COTTAGE  BY  THE  SEA. 

Music  at  Firth  &  Pond's,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Childhood's  days  now  pass  before  me, 

Forms  and  scenes  of  long  ago, 
Like  a  dream  they  hover  o'er  me, 

Calm  and  bright  as  evening  glow. 
Days  that  know  no  shade  of  sorrow, 

There  my  young  heart  pure  and  free, 
Joyful  hailed  each  coming  morrow, 
Chorus — In  the  cottage  by  the  sea. 

In  the  cottage  by  the  sea. 

Fancy  views  the  rose  trees  twining, 

Bound  the  old  and  rustic  door, 
And  below  the  white  beach  shining 

Where  I  gathered  shells  of  yore, 
Hears  my  mother's  gentle  warning, 

As  she  took  me  on  her  knee, 
And  I  feel  again  life's  morning,  » 

In  the  cottage  by  the  sea, 

In  the  cottage  by  the  sea. 


24  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

What  though  years  have  rolled  above  me, 

Tho'  mid  fairer  scenes  I  roam, 
Yet  I  ne'er  shall  cease  to  love  thee, 

Childhood's  dear  and  happy  home. 
And  when  life's  long  day  is  closing, 

Oh  !  how  pleasant  it  would  be, 
On  some  faithful  heart  reposing, 

In  the  cottage  by  the  sea. 
Chorua — In  the  cottage  by  the  sea, 
In  the  cottage  by  the  sea. 


BY  THE  SAD  SEA  WAVES. 

As  sung  by  Jenny  Lind,  Mad.  Parodi,  &c,  &c. 

By  the  sad  sea  waves, 

I  listen  while  they  moan, 
I  lament  o'er  the  graves 

Of  hope  and  pleasure  gone. 
I  was  young — I  was  fair, 
I  once  had  not  a  care, 
From  the  rising  of  the  morn 

To  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
Yet  I  pine  like  a  slave, 
By  the  sad  sea  wave. 
Come  again  bright  days  of  hope  and  pleasure  gone, 

Come  again  bright  days, 

Come  again,  come  again. 

From  my  care  last  night, 

By  holy  sleep  beguiled, 
In  the  fair  dream  light, 

My  home  upon  me  smiled. 
Oh  !  how  sweet  mid  the  dew, 
Ev'ry  flower  that  I  knew, 
Breathed  a  welcome  back, 

To  their  worn  and  weary  child. 
I  awoke,  in  my  grave, 
By  the  sad  sea  wave. 
Come  again  bright  dream  so  peacefully  that  smiled, 

Come  again  bright  dream, 

Come  again,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  25 

LET  US  SPEAK  OF  A  MAN  AS  WE  FIND  HIM. 

Let  us  speak  of  a  man  as  we  find  him, 

And  censure  alone  what  we  see, 
And  should  a  man  blame,  let's  remind  him, 

That  from  vice  we  are  none  of  us  free. 
Jf  the  veil  from  the  heart  could  be  torn, 

And  the  mind  could  be  read  on  the  brow, 
There  are  many  we'd  pass  by  with  scorn, 
Whom  we're  loading  with  high  honors  now. 
Let  us  speak  of  a  man, 
Let  us  speak  of  a  man, 
Let  us  speak  of  a  man  as  we  find  him. 

Let  us  speak  of  a  man  as  we  find  him, 

And  heed  not  what  others  may  say, 
If  he's  frail,  then  a  kind  word  may  bind  him, 

When  coldness  would  turn  him  away; 
For  the  heart  must  be  barren  indeed, 

Where  no  bud  of  repentance  can  bloom, 
Then  pause,  ere  you  cause  it  to  bleed, 

Or  a  smile  or  a  frown  hangs  it  down. 
Let  us  speak  of  a  man, 
Let  us  speak  of  a  man,  &c. 

THERE'LL  BE  NO  SORROW  THERE.       " 

Oh  !  sing  to  me  of  heaven, 
When  I  am  called  to  die, 

Sing  holy  songs  of  ecstasy, 
To  waft  my  soul  on  high. 
Chorus — There'll  be  no  more  sorrow  there, 
There'll  be  no  more  sorrow  there, 
In  heaven  above  where  all  is  love, 
There'll  be  no  more  sorrow  there. 


When  cold  and  sluggish  drops 
Roll  off  my  marble  brow, 

Wake  in  sweet  strains  of  joyfulness, 
And  heaven  begins  below. 
There'll  be  no  more  sorrow  there, 
There'll  be  no  more  sorrow  there. 


26  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 


THE  LAST  ROSE    OF  SUMMER. 

;Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer 

Left  blooming  alone, 
All  her  lovely  companions 

Are  faded  and  gone. 
No  flower  of  her  kindred, 

No  rosebud  is  nigh, 
To  reflect  back  her  blushes, 

Or  give  sigh  for  sigh. 

I'll  not  leave  thee,  thou  lone  one, 

To  pine  on  the  stem, 
Since  the  lovely  are  sleeping, 

Go  sleep  thou  with  them. 
Thus  kindly  I  scatter 

Thy  leaves  o'er  the  bed, 
Where  thy  mates  of  the  garden 

Lie  scentless  and  dead. 


So  soon  may  I  follow 

When  friendships  decay, 
And  from  love's  shining  circle, 

The  gems  drop  away. 
When  true  hearts  lie  withered, 

And  fond  ones  are  flown, 
Oh  !  who  would  inhabit 

This  bleak  world  alone  ? 


A  PARODY  ON  THE  SAME, 

'Tis  the  last  piece  of  silver 

Left  gleaming  alone, 
All  its  specie  companions 

Are  paid  out  and  gone. 
No  cash  of  its  kindred, 

No  red  cent  is  nigh, 
To  reflect  back  its  lustre, 

Or  show  die  for  die 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  27 

I'll  not  keep  thee,  thou  lone  one, 

Like  a  pipe's  broken  stem, 
Since  the  rest  is  expended, 

I'll  spend  you  like  them. 
Thus  kindly  I  scatter 

Thee  with  the  last  "  red;" 
And  my  empty  exchequer 

Is  cent-less  and  dead. 

MAGGIE  BY  MY  SIDE. 

The  land  of  home  is  flitting, 

Flitting  from  my  view, 
The  wind  in  the  sail  is  sitting, 

Toils  the  merry  crew. 
Here,  let  my  home  be, 

O'er  the  waters  wide, 
I  roam  with  a  proud  heart, 
Maggie's  by  my  side. 
Chorus — My  own  love,  Maggie  dear, 

Sitting  by  gay  side, 
Maggie  dear,  my  own  love, 

Sitting  by  my  side. 

The  wind  howls  o'er  the  billow, 

From  the  distant  lea, 
Storms  raging  round  my  pillow 

Bring  no  cares  to  me. 
Roll  on,  ye  dark  waves, 

O'er  the  troubled  tide, 
I  heed  not  your  anger, 

Maggie's  by  my  side. 
My  own  love,  &c. 

Storms  can  appal  me  never, 

While  her  brow  is  clear  j 
Fair  weather  lingers  ever, 

Where  her  smiles  appear. 
When  sorrow's  breaker^ 

Bound  my  heart  shall  bide, 
Still  may  I  find  her, 

Sitting  by  my  side. 
My  own  love,  Maggie  dear,  &c 


28  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

BELL  BRANDON. 

Neath  a  tree  by  the  margin  of  the  wild  wood, 

Whose  spreading  leafy  boughs  swept  the  ground, 
With  a  path  leadiDg  thither  o'er  the  prairie, 

Where  silence  hung  her  night  garb  around ; 
Where  oft  I  have  wandered  in  the  evening, 

When  the  summer  winds  were"  fragrant  o'er  the  lea, 
There  I  saw  the  little  beauty,  Bell  Brandon, 

As  we  met  by  the  old  arbor  tree. 
There  I  saw,  &c. 

Bell  Brandon  was  a  birdling  of  the  mountain, 

She  sported  on  her  wings  wild  and  free,   - 
And  they  said  the  life  current  of  the  red  man 

Tinged  her  veins  from  a  far  distant  sea  ; 
And  she  loved  her  humble  dwelling  on  the  prairie, 

And  her  guileless,  happy  heart  clung  to  me ; 
And  I  loved  the  little  beauty,  Bell  Brandon,^ 

And  we  both  loved  the  old  arbor  tree. 
For  I  loved,  &c. 

On  the  trunk  of  an  aged  tree  I  carved  them, 

And  our  names  on  the  sturdy  oak  remain, 
But  I  now  repair  in  sorrow  to  its  shelter, 

And  murmur  to  the  wild  winds  my  pain. 
After  I  sat  there  in  solitude  repining, 

For  the  beauteous  dream  brought  night  to  me, 
Death  has  wed  the  little  beauty,  Bell  Brandon, 

And  she  sleeps  'neath  the  old  arbor  tree. 

HEBE'S  A  HEALTH  TO  ALL  GOOD  LASSES. 

A   POPULAR   GLEE. 

Here's  a  health  to  all  good  lasses, 
Pledge  it  merrily,  fill  your  glasses, 

Let  the  bumper  toast  go  round, 

Let  the  bumper  toast  go  round. 
May  they  live  a  life  of  pleasure, 
Without  mixture,  without  measure, 

For  with  them  true  joys  are  found. 
Fill  your  glasses — mine's  a  bumper — 
All  good  lasses — mine's  a  thumper. 

Here's  a  health  to  all  good  lasses,  &c. 


SONGS  OP  SENTIMENT.  29 

THOU  ART  GONE  FROM  MY  GAZE. 

Thou  art  gone  from  my  gnze  like  a  beautiful  dream, 
And  I  seek  thee  in  vain  by  the  mountain  and  stream, 
Oft  I  breathe  thy  dear  name  to  the  wind  passing  by, 
But  thy  sweet  voice  is  mute  to  my  bosom's  lone  sigh. 

In  the  stillness  of  night,  when  the  stars  mildly  shine, 
My  heart  fondly  holds  a  communion  with  thine, 
For  I  feel  thou  art  near,  and  where  e'er  I  may  be, 
That  the  spirit  of  love  keeps  a  watch  over  me. 

Of  the  buds  in  thy  bower,  new  companions  I  make, 
Every  simple  wild  flower  I  prize  for  thy  sake, 
The  deep  woods  and  dark  wilds  can  a  pleasure  impart, 
For  their  solitude  suits  my  sad  sorrow-worn  heart. 

Thou  art  gone  from  my  gaze,  but  I  will  not  repine, 
Ere  long  we  shall  meet  in  a  home  that's  now  thine, 
For  I  feel  thou  art  near,  and  where  e'er  I  may  be, 
That  the  spirit  of  love  keeps  a  watch  over  me. 


SAY  A  KIND  WORD  WHEN  YOU  CAN. 

What  were  life  without  something  to  cheer  us 

With  a  word  or  a  smile  on  our  way  ? 
A  friend  who  is  faithfully  near  us, 

Who  heeds  not  what  others  may  say. 
The  bravest  of  spirits  have  often, 

Half  failed  in  the  race  they  have  ran, 
For  a  kind  word  life's  hardships  to  soften  j 

Then  say  a  kind  word  when  you  can 
Chorus — Say  a  kind  word,  &c. 

Each  one  of  us  own  to  some  failing, 

Tho'  some  may  have  more  than  the  rest, 
Rut  there's  no  good  in  heedlessly  railing 

'Gainst  those  who  are  striving  their  best. 
Remember  a  word  of  complaining 

May  blight  every  effort  and  plan, 
Which  a  kind  word  would  help  in  attaining, 

Then  say  a  kind  word  when  you  can. 


SONGS    OF   SENTIMENT. 

Oh  !  say  a  kind  word  then,  whenever 

Twill  make  the  heart  cheerful  and  glad, 
But  chiefly,  forget  it  oh  never  ! 

To  the  one  that  is  hopeless  and  sad. 
Eor  there's  no  word  so  easy  in  saying, 

So  begin — if  you  have  not  began, 
And  never  in  life  be  delaying, 

To  say  a  kind  word  when  you  can. 
Then  say  a  kind  word,  &c. 

J.  R.  Thomas. 

HAZEL  DELL. 

In  the  hazel  dell  my  Nelly's  sleeping, 

Nelly  loved  so  long, 
And  my  lonely,  lonely  watch  Pm  keeping, 

Nelly  lost  and  gone. 
Here  in  moonlight  oft  we've  wandered, 

Through  the  silent  shade, 
Now  where  leafy  branches  drooping  downward, 

Little  Nelly's  laid. 
All  alone  my  watch  I'm  keeping, 

In  the  hazel  dell, 
For  my  darling  Nelly's  near  me  sleeping, 

Nelly,  dear,  farewell. 
In  the  hazel  dell  my  Nelly's  sleeping, 

Where  the  flowers  wave, 
And  the  silent  stars  are  nightly  weeping 

O'er  poor  Nelly's  grave. 
Hopes  that  once  my  bosom  fondly  cherished, 

Smile  no  more  for  me, 
Ev'ry  dream  of  joy,  alas !  has  perished, 

Nelly,  dear  with  thee. 
All  alone,  &c. 
Now  I'm  weary,  friendless,  and  forsaken, 

Watching  here  alone, 
Nelly,  thou  no  more  wilt  fondly  cheer  me, 

With  thy  loving  tone. 
Yet  for  ever  shall  thy  gentle  image 

Within  my  memory  dwell, 
And  my  tears  thy  lonely  grave  shall  moisten, 

Nelly,  dear,  farewell. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  31 


SHELLS  OF  THE  OCEAN. 

One  summer  eve,  in  pensive  thought, 

I  wandered  on  the  sea-beat  shore, 
Where  oft  in  heedless  infancy, 

I  gathered  shells  in  days  before, 

I  gathered  shells,  &c. 
The  flashing  waves  like  music  fell, 

Responsive  to  my  fancy  wild, 
A  dream  came  o'er  me  like  a  spell, 

I  thought  I  was  again  a  child. 
A  dream  came  o'er  me  like  a  spell, 

I  thought  I  was  again  a  child. 

I  stooped  upon  the  pebbly  strand, 

To  cull  the  toys  that  round  me  lay, 
But  as  I  took  them  in  my  hand, 

I  threw  them  one  by  one  away, 

T  threw  them,  &c. 
Oh  !  thus,  I  said,  in  ev'ry  stage, 

By  toys  our  fancy  is  beguiled, 
We  gather  shells  from  youth  to  age, 

And  then  we  leave  them  like  a  child. 
We  gather  shells,  &c. 


SEE  OUR  OARS  WITH  FEATHERED  SPRAY* 

A   POPULAR   GLEE. 

See  our  oars  with  feathered  spray, 
Sparkle  in  the  beam  of  day, 
In  our  little  bark  we  glide 
Swiftly  o'er  the  silent  tide. 


From  yonder  lone  and  rocky  shore, 
The  warrior  hermit  to  restore ; 
And  sweet  the  morning  breezes  blow, 
While  thus  in  measured  time  we  row. 
See  our  oars,  &c. 


SONGS    OP    SENTIMENT. 


MY  HOME  SHALL  BE  THE  WAVES. 

Speed  on  my  bark,  the  day  beam 

Is  bursting  on  my  sight, 
Still  o'er  the  rolling  billows, 

Speed  on  thy  rapid  flight. 
'Tis  life  along  the  waters, 

With  eagle's  wing  to  sweep, 
To  breathe  the  song  of  freedom, 

Upon  the  boundless  deep. 
Speed  on,  &c. 

With  thee  my  bark  undaunted, 

Whatever  chance  be  thine, 
I'll  share  it  gladly  with  thee, 

And  may  thy  fate  be  mine. 
I  will  not  fix  my  dwelling 

Amid  a  world  of  slaves, 
With  thee  through  life  for  ever, 

My  home  shall  be  the  waves. 
I  will  not,  &c. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  OTHER  DAYS. 

The  light  of  other  days  is  faded, 

And  all  their  glories  past, 
For  grief  with  heavy  wing  hath  shaded 

Those  hopes  too  bright  to  last. 
The  world,  which  morning's  mantle  clouded, 

Shines  forth  with  purer  rays  ; 
But  the  heart  ne'er  feels  in  sorrow  shrouded 

The  light  of  other  days. 

The  leaves  which  Autumn  tempests  wither, 

The  birds  which  then  take  wing, 
When  winter  winds  are  past,  come  hither 

To  welcome  back  the  spring. 
The  very  ivy  on  the  ruin 

The  gloomful  life  displays, 
But  the  heart  alone  sees  no  renewing 

The  light  of  other  days. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  £8 

THE  WATCHMAN. 

Good  night,  good  night,  my  dearest, 

How  fast  the  moments  fly  ! 
'Tis  time  to  part  j  thou  hearest 

That  hateful    watchman's  cry, 
"Past  twelve  o'clock,"  good  night. 
Yet  stay  a  moment  longer, 

Alas  !  why  is  it  so  ? 
The  wish  to  stay  grows  stronger 

The  more  'tis  time  to  go. 
"  Past  one  o'clock,"  good  night. 
Now  wrap  thy  cloak  about  thee, 

The  hours  must  sure  go  wrong, 
For  when  they  are  past  without  thee, 

They're  oh  !  ten  times  as  long. 
u  Past  two  o'clock,"  good  night. 
Again  that  dreadful  warning, 

Had  ever  time  such  flight  ? 
And  see  the  sky, — 'tis  morning, 

So  now  indeed,  good  night. 
c-  Past  three  o'clock,"  good  night. 

Thomas  Moorb. 

WHAT  FAIRY  LIKE  MUSIC. 

What  fairy  like  music 

Steals  over  the  sea, 
Entrancing  the  senses, 

With  charmed  melody  ! 
'Tis  the  voice  of  the  mermaid, 

That  floats  o'er  the  main, 
As  she  mingles  her  song 

With  the  gondolier's  strain. 
The  winds  are  all  hushed, 

And  the  waters  at  rest, 
They  sleep  like  the  passions 

In  infancy's  breast, 
Till  storms  shall  unchain  them 

From  out  the  dark  cave, 
And  break  the  repose 

Of  the  soul  and  the  wave. 


S4  SONGS  OF  SENTIMENT. 


MY  BARQUE  IS  BOUNDING  NEAR. 

Oh  !  listen,  dearest  lady, 

It  is  thine  own  one  calls, 
Pale  stars  are  o'er  thee  shinin 


Dim  twilight  round  thee  falls. 
Come,  come,  this  heart  awaits  thee, 

My  lady  love  appear,       * 
Come,  fly  with  me  across  the  lake, 

My  barque  is  bounding  near, 

My  barque  is  bounding  near,  &c. 

Oh  !  hasten,  dearest  lady, 

As  o'er  the  tide  we  rove, 
Each  silvery  wave  shall  echo 

Sweet  notes  of  minstrel  love. 
And  vows  of  truth  I'll  breathe  to  thee, 

I'll  kiss  away  each  tear, 
Come,  fly  with  me  across  the  lake, 

My  barque  is  bounding  near, 

My  barque  is  bounding  near,  &c. 

LET  US  ALL  HELP  ONE  ANOTHER. 

Let  us  all  help  one  another, 

And  all  heart  of  kindness  show, 
As  adown  time's  flowing  river, 

In  the  boat  of  life  we  row. 
For  though  rough  may  be  the  weather, 

And  the  sky  be  overcast, 
If  we  only  pull  together, 

We  can  brave  the  storm  at  last. 

Let  us  all  help  one  another, 

In  misfortune's  wintry  day, 
And  be  kinder  still  as  ever  ere, 

Earth's  best  gifts  are  snatched  away. 
When  bright  fortune  gilds  the  morrow, 

Hollow  hearts  will  fawn  and  cling, 
But  when  comes  the  night  of  sorrow, 

True  hearts  only  comfort  bring. 
Let  us  all  help,  &c. 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 


MY  PHETTY  JANE. 

My  pretty  Jane,  my  pretty  Jane, 

Ah  !  never  look  so  shy, 
But  meet  me  in  the  evening 

While  the  bloom  is  on  the  rye. 

The  Spring  is  waning  fast,  my  love, 

The  corn  is  in  the  ear, 
The  Summer  nights  are  coming,  love, 

The  moon  shines  bright  and  clear. 

But  name  the  day,  the  wedding  day, 
When  I  will  buy  the  ring, 

The  lads  and  maids  in  favors  white; 
And  the  village  bells  shall  ring. 

My  pretty  Jane,  &c. 


THE  VOICE  OF  HER  I  LOVE. 

A  Celebrated  Harp  Song. 

How  sweet  at  close  of  silent  eve, 

The  harp's  responsive  sound  ! 
How  sweet  the  vows  that  ne'er  deceived 

Or  deeds  by  virtue  crown'd  ! 
How  sweet  to  sit  beneath  a  tree, 

In  some  delightful  grove, 
But  oh  !  more  sweet,  more  dear  to  me, 

Is  the  voice  of  her  I  love. 

Whene'er  she  joins  the  village  train, 

To  hail  the  new  born  day, 
Mellifluous  notes  compose  the  strain, 

Which  zephyrs  waft  away. 
The  frowns  of  fate  I'll  calmly  bear, 

In  humble  sphere  to  move, 
Content  and  blest  whene'er  I  hear 

The  voice  of  her  I  love. 


3b  SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 

LISTEN  TO  THE  MOCKING  BIRD. 

A  Celebrated  Imitation  Song. 
I'm  dreaming  now  of  Hally,  sweet  Hally,  sweet  Hally, 
Fin  dreaming  now  of  Hally ; 
For  the  thought  of  her  is  one  that  never  dies. 

She's  sleeping  in  the  valley,  the  valley,  the  valley, 
And  the  Mocking-bird  is  singing  where  she  lies. 
Chorus. — Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird, 
Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird, 
The  Mocking-bird  still  singing  o'er  her  grave, 
Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird, 
Listen,  &c. 
Still  singing  where  the  weeping  willows  wave. 

Ah !  well  I  yet  remember,  remember,  remember, 
Ah  !  well  I  yet  remember, 
When  we  gathered  in  the  cotton,  side  by  side ; 

'Twas  in  the  mild  September,  September,  September, 
'Twas  in  the  mild  September, 
And  the  Mocking-birds  were  singing  far  and  wide. 
Chorus. — Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird,  &c. 

When  the  charms  of  Spring  awaken,  awaken,  awaken, 
When  the  charms  of  Spring  awaken, 
And  the  Mocking-bird  is  singing  on  the  bough ; 

I  feel  like  one  forsaken,  forsaken,  forsaken, 
Since  my  Hally  is  no  longer  with  me  now. 

Chorus. — Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird, 

listen  to  the  Mocking-bird,  &c. 

MORNING  ITS  SWEETS  IS  FLINGING. 

Morning  its  sweets  is  flinging 
Over  each  bower  and  spray, 
Flowers  to  life  are  springing, 
To  greet  the  opening  day; 
Zephyrs  are  gently  winging 
Round  their  sportive  way, 
Birds  on  each  branch  are  singing, 
While  echo  repeats  the  lay,    * 
While  echo  repeats  the  lay. 
;Tis  an  enchanted  grove, 
Sacred  to  peace  and  love. 

From  Cinderella. 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT.  37 

THE  LONE  STARRY  HOURS. 

Music  published  by  Ditson,  227  "Washington  St.,  Boston. 

Oh  !  the  lone  starry  hours  give  me,  love, 

When  still  is  the  beautiful  night, 
When  the  round  laughing  moon  I  see,  love, 

Peeps  through  the  clouds  silver  white. 
When  no  winds  sweep  through  the  woods,  love, 

And  I  gaze  on  the  bright  rising  star, 
When  the  world  is  in  dream  and  asleep,  love, 

0  wake  while  I  touch  my  guitar. 

Till  the  red  rosy  morn  grows  bright,  love, 

Far  away  o'er  the  distant  sea, 
Till  the  stars  cease  their  gentle  light,  love, 

Will  I  wait  for  a  welcome  from  thee. 
And  oh  !  if  that  pleasure  is  thine,  love, 

We  will  wander  together  afar, 
My  heart  shall  be  thine,  thine,  my  love, 

Then  awake  while  I  touch  my  guitar. 

ALUS  FOR  THE  BEST. 

Music  published  by  Firth  &  Pond,  547  Broadway,  N.  T. 

All's  for  the  best;  be  sanguine  and  cheerful. 

Trouble  and  sorrow  are  friends  in  disguise, 
Nothing  but  folly  goes  faithless  and  fearful, 

Courage  forever  is  happy  and  wise. 
All's  for  the  best;  if  a  man  would  but  know  it, 

Providence  wishes  that  all  may  be  blest, 
This  is  no  dream  of  the  pundit  or  poet, 

Fact  is  not  fancy,  and  all's  for  the  best, 

Fact  is  not  fancy,  and  all's  for  the  best. 

All's  for  the  best;  set  this  on  your  standard, 

Soldier  of  sadness  or  pilgrim  of  love, 
Who  to  the  shores  of  despair  may  have  wandered, 

A  way-wearied  swallow  or  heart-stricken  dove. 
All's  for  the  best;  be  a  man  but  confiding, 

Providence  tenderly  governs  the  rest, 
And  the  frail  barque  of  his  creature  is  guiding, 

Wisely  and  warily ;  all's  for  the  best. 


88  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 


All's  for  the  best ;  dispel  idle  terrors, 

Meet  all  your  fears  and  your  foes  in  the  van, 
And  in  the  midst  of  your  dangers  and  errors, 

Trust  like  a  child  and  strive  like  a  man. 
All's  for  the  best;  unavailing,  unbounded, 

Providence  wishes  that  all  may  be  blest, 
And  both  by  wisdom  and  mercy  surrounded, 

Hope  and  be  happy  then,  all's  for  the  best. 

All's  for  the  best :  all's  for  the  best ; 

Hope  and  be  happy,  &c.  &c. 


«  KISS  BUT  NEVER  TELL." 

Music  by  F.  Buckley.     Firth  &  Pond,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

When  love  grows  warm  there  is  a  charm, 

And  oft  a  sacred  bliss, 
When  fond  hearts  greet,  for  lips  to  meet, 

In  sweet  affection's  kiss ; 
But  to  reveal  the  secret  seal, 

Which  hallows  it  so  well, 
May  quench  love's  flame,  with  breath  of  shame, 

So  kiss,  but  never  tell. 
Oh,  kiss,  but  never  tell  to  any, 

Breathing  breaks  the  spell, 
True  love's  pledge  to  keep  forever. 

Kiss,  but  never  tell. 

At  night  when  eyes  like  stars  beam  bright. 

And  kindred  souls  commune, 
When  heart  to  heart,  love's  vows  impart, 

Beneath  the  smiling  moon  ; 
At  such  an  hour  of  magic  power, 

What  holy  raptures  dwell, 
In  each  true  breast  by  honor  blest, 

To  kiss,  but  never  tell  ! 
Then  kiss,  but  never  tell,  oh,  never, 

Breathing  breaks  the  spell, 
True  love's  pledge  to  keep  forever. 

Kiss,  but  never  tell. 

Silas  S.  Steels. 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  39 

BATTI,  BATTI— "  CHIDE  ME,  CHIDE  ME ! " 

Piccolomini's  Celebrated  SoDg,  from  Don  Juan. 

Chide  me,  chide  me,  dear  Masetto, 

Chide  Zerlina  at  your  will, 
Like  the  patient  lamb  I  suffer, 

Meek,  and  mute,  and  loving  still. 

Rend  those  locks  you  praised  so  highly. 

From  thine  arms  Zerlina  cast, 
These  fond  eyes  in  rage  extinguish, 

Fondly  still  they'll  look  their  last. 

Ah  !  I  see,  love,  you're  relenting, 

Pardon,  kneeling  I  implore, 
Night  and  day  to  thee  devoted, 

Here  I  vow  to  err  no  more. 

COME  BRAVE  THE  SEA. 

Air — Liberty.     Duett  in  II  Puritani. 
Come  brave  the  sea  with  me,  love, 
The  empire  of  the  free,  love, 
There  shalt  thou  dwell  with  me,  love, 

My  blessing  and  my  pride. 
Oh  !  hasten  with  me  there,  love, 
While  yet  the  wind  is  fair,  love, 
While  the  sparkling  billows  foam,  love, 
Where  e'er  fate  bids  us  roam,  love 
My  ship  shall  be  thy  home,  love, 

And  thou  be  the  sailor's  bride. 
Come  brave  the  sea,  &c. 

Come  then  and  with  me  roam,  love, 
From  father,  friends,  and  home,  love, 
Where  the  sparkling  billows  foam,  love, 

So  boundless  and  so  wide. 
For  dangers  dread  thee  there,  love, 
Where  tempests  rend  the  air,  love, 
Tho'  fair  the  earth  may  be,  love, 
It  is  not  like  the  sea,  love, 
Where  soars  the  spirit  free,  love, 

While  o'er  its  breast  we  ride. 
Come  brave  the  sea,  &c. 


40  SONGS    OF   SENTIMENT. 

"NEATH  THIS  LEAFY  SHADE  RECLINING." 

A  gern  from  the  Elixir  of  Love. 
'Neath  this  leafy  shade  reclining, 
Sweet  repose  with  pleasure  blending, 
While  the  noontide  sun  is  shining 

Here  we  pass  an  hour  away, 
Screened  from  heat  by  fragrant  bowers 
Cooling  streams  and  fragrant  flowers. 
But  when  love  exerts,  exerts  his  power, 
Nought,  oh !  nought's  impervious  to  his  ray, 
No,  when  love  exerts,  exerts  his  sway, 
Tower  nor  bower's  impervious  to  his  ray. 

MEET  ME  IN  THE  WILLOW  GLEN. 

As  sung  by  Miss  Sheriff. 

Meet  me  in  the  willow  glen, 

When  the  silver  moon  is  beaming, 
Songs  of  love  I'll  sing  to  thee, 

When  all  the  world  is  dreaming. 
No  prying  eye  shall  come,   love, 

No  stranger  foot  be  seen, 
And  the  distant  village  hum,  love, 
Shall  echo  through  the  glen. 
Meet  me  in  the  willow  glen 

When  the  silver  moon  is  beaming, 
Songs  of  love  I'll  sing  you  there, 

If  you'll  meet  me  in  the  willow  glen. 

LIKE  THE  GLOOM  OF  NIGHT  EETIEING. 

As  sung  by  Madame  Parodi. 

Like  the  gloom  of  night  retiring, 
When  in  splendor  beams  the  day, 

Hope  again  my  heart  inspiring, 
Doubt  and  fear  shall  chase  away. 

Life  shall  yield  its  sweetest  treasure, 
When  our  plighted  faith  we  seal, 

Care  not  one  dear  drop  of  pleasure 
From  our  cup  of  joy  shall  steal. 

Like  the  gloom  of  night,  &c. 


SONGS    OP    SENTIMENT.  41 

DRINK  YE  TO  HER  THAT  EACH  LOVES  BEST. 

Drink  ye  to  her  that  each  loves  best, 

And  if  you  nurse  a  flame, 
Told  only  to  her  mutual  breast, 

A\'e  will  not  ask  her  name. 
Enough,  while  memory  tranced  and  glad, 

Taints  silently  the  fair, 
That  each  should  dream  of  joys  he's  had, 

Or  yet  may  hope  to  share. 
Yet  far  from  hence  be  jest  or  boast, 

From  hallow* d  thoughts  so  dear, 
But  drink  to  them  that  we  love  most, 

As  they  would  like  to  hear. 

Then  drink  to  her  that  each  loves  best,  &c. 

Campbell. 

THE  ROSE  OF  ALLANDALE. 

The  morn  was  fair,  the  skies  were  clear, 

No  breath  came  o'er  the  lea, 
When  Mary  left  her  Highland  cot, 
•    And  wandered  forth  with  me. 
Though  flowers  decked  the  mountain  side, 

And  fragrance  filled  the  vale, 
By  far  the  sweetest  flower  there, 

Was  the  Rose  of  Allandale. 
Where  e'er  I  wandered,  east  or  west, 

Tho'  fate  began  to  lower, 
A  solace  still  was  she  to  me, 

In  sorrow's  lonely  hour. 
When  tempests  lashed  our  gallant  bark, 

And  rent  oar  shivering  sail, 
One  maiden  form  withstood  the  storm, 

'Twa.s  the  Rose  of  Allandale. 
And  when  in;  were  parched, 

On  Afric's  burning  sand, 
She  whispered  h  pee  of  happiness, 

And  tales  of  distant  land. 
My  life  had  b<  eh  a  wilderness, 

(J ablest  by  fortune's  gale, 
Had  late  not  linked  my  lot  with  hers, 
iet  Rose  of  Allandale. 


42  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

MY  MOTHER  DEAR. 

There  was  a  place  in  childhood, 

That  I  remember  well, 
And  there  a  voice  of  sweetest  tone, 

Bright  fairy  tales  did  tell. 
And  gentle  words  with  fond  embrace 

Were  given  with  joy  to  me*, 
"When  I  was  in  that  happy  place, 

Upon  my  mother's  knee. 
My  mother  dear,  my  mother  dear, 
My  gentle,  gentle  mother  dear. 

When  fairy  tales  were  ended, 

"  Good  night/'  she  softly  said, 
And  kissed,  and  laid  me  down  to  sleep, 

Within  my  tiny  bed. 
And  holy  words  she  taught  me  there, 

Methinks  I  yet  can  see 
Her  angel  eyes  as  close  I  knelt, 

Beside  my  mother's  knee. 
Oh  !  mother  dear,  &c. 
In  the  sickness  of  my  childhood, 

The  perils  of  my  prime, 
The  sorrows  of  my  riper  years, 

The  cares  of  ev'ry  time — 
When  doubt,  or  danger,  weighed  me  down, 

Then  pleading  all  for  me, 
It  was  a  fervent  prayer  to  heaven, 

That  bent  my  mother's  knee. 
My  mother,  &c. 

BE  MINE,  DEAR  MAID. 

From  "Guy  Mannering." 
Be  mine,  dear  maid,  this  faithful  heart 

Can  never  prove  untrue, 
;Twere  easier  far  from  life  to  part, 

Than  cease  to  live  for  you. 
Then  turn  thee  not  away,  my  love, 

Oh  !  turn  thee  not  away, 
Tor  by  the  light  of  tr,uth  I  swear, 

To  love  thee  night  and  day, 

To  love  thee,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  43 

The  lark  shall  first  forget  to  sing, 

When  morn  unfolds  the  east, 
Ere  I  by  change  or  coldness  wring 

Thy  fond  confiding  breast. 
Then  turn  thee  not  away,  my  love, 

Oh  !  turn  thee  not  away, 
For  by  the  light  of  truth  I  swear, 

To  love  thee  night  and  day, 

To  love  thee,  l\:c. 

RECLINE,  DEAR  BOSS,  OR  THE  READY  BARBER. 

A   PARODY    ON    THE   ABOVE. 

Recline  dear  boss,  my  razor's  sharp, 

My  hand  is  firm  and  true, 
'Twere  easier  far  my  blood  to  start, 

Than  make  a  cut  on  you. 
Then  turn  thy  head  this  way,  dear  boss, 

Then  turn  thy  head  this  way, 
For  by  the  Tonsor's  art  I  swear, 

To  shave  thee  right  away,  boss. 
(Repeat,  strapping  razor  to  symphony.) 

To  shave  thee  right  to-day,  boss, 

To  shave  thee  right  away, 
To  shave  thee,  to  shave  thee, 

To  shave  thee  ri-hi-ight  away,  boss. 

MY  SISTER  DEAR. 

From  Massaniello. 

My  sister  dear,  o'er  this  rude  cheek, 
I  oft  have  felt  the  tear-drop  stealing, 
When  those  mute  looks  have  told  the  feeling 

Heaven  denied  the  tongue  to  speak, 
And  thou  had'st  comfort  in  that  tear, 
Shed  for  thee,  my  sister  dear. 

And  now,  alas  !  I  weep  alone 
By  thee,  by  joy,  by  hope  forsaken, 
Midst  thoughts  that  darkest  fears  awaken, 

Trembling  for  thy  fute  unknown, 
And  vainly  flows  the  bitter  tear, 
Shed  for  thee,  my  sister  dear. 


4  SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 

"  BEHOLD  HOW  BRIGHTLY  ERE AKS  THE 
MORNING/' 

Or  the  Fisherman's  Barcarole,  from  the  same. 

Behold  how  brightly  breaks  the  morning, 
Tho'  bleak  our  lot,  our  hearts  are  warm, 

To  toil  inured,  all  clanger  scorning, 

We  hail  the  breeze,  and  brave  the  storm. 

Put  off,  put  off,  our  course  we  know, 
Take  heed — whisper  low. 

Look  out  and  spread  your  net  with  care; 

The  prey  we  seek,  we'll  soon,  we'll  soon  ensnare. 

Away,  no  cloud  is  lowering  o'er  us, 

Freely  now  we'll  stem  the  wave, 
Hoist,  hoist  all  sail,  while  full  before  us, 

Hope's  beacon  shines  to  cheer  the  brave. 
Put  off,  put  off,  &c. 

VEDRAI  CARINO— LIST,  AND  I'LL  FIND,  LOVE. 

From  Don  Juan.     As  sung  by  all  vocalists  of  celebrity. 

List,  and  I'll  find,  love, 
If  you  are  kind,  love, 
Balm  for  your  mind,  love, 
Patient  be. 

This  balm  so  pure,  love, 
Simple  and  sure,  love, 
Sweet  to  endure,  love, 
None  know  but  me. 

Thrilling  and  healing, 
Over  thee  stealing, 
Exquisite  feeling, 
Meant  but  for  thee. 


To  thy  entreating 
I'll  yield  it  here, 

Feel  how  'tis  beating, 
Beating  just  here. 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  45 

COME,  OH  COME  WITH  ME. 

Come,  oh  come  with  me, 
The  moon  is  beaming  ; 
Come,  oh  come  with  me, 
The  stars  are  gleaming; 
All  round  above  with  beauty  beaming, 

Moonlight  hours  are  meet  for  love. 
Tra  la  la  la,  &c.  &c. 

My  skiff  is  on  the  shore, 

She's  light  and  free  ; 
To  ply  the  feathered  oar, 

Is  joy  to  me; 
And  while  we  glide  along, 
My  song  shall  be, 
My  dearest  maid,  I  love  but  thee. 

My  skiff  is  on  the  shore,  &c.  &c. 

OFT  IN  THE  STILLY  NIGHT. 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Fond  memory  brings  the  light 

Of  other  days  around  me. 
The  smiles,  the  tears,  of  boyhood's  years, 

The  words  of  love  then  spoken, 
The  eyes  that  shone,  now  dimm'd  and  gone, 

The  cheerful  hearts  now  broken. 
Oft  in  the  stilly  night,  &c. 

When  I  remember  all 

The  friends  thus  linked  together, 
I've  seen  around  me  fall, 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather, 
I  feel  like  one  who  treads  alone, 

Some  banquet  hall  deserted  : 
Whose  lights  are  fled,  whose  garlands  dead, 

And  all  but  he  departed. 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Fond  memory  brings  the  light 

Of  other  days  around  me. 

Thomas  Moore. 


46  SONGS  OF  SENTIMENT. 

GAFFER  GREEN  AND  ROBIN  RUFF, 

OR  A  THOUSAND  A  YEAR. 

A   NEW   AND   POPULAR   DUETT. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth  Pond  &  Co.,  publishers,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y 

Robin  Ruff — 

If  I  had  but  a  thousand  a  year,  Gaffer  Green — 

If  I  had  but  a  thousand  a  year, 
"What  a  man  would  I  be,  and  what  sights  would  I  see, 

If  I  had  but  a  thousand  a  year  ! 

Gaffer  Green — 

The  best  wish  you  could  have,  take  niy  word,  Robin  Ruff, 

Would  scarce  find  you  in  bread  or  in  beer ; 
But  be  honest  and  true,  and  say  what  would  you  do; 

If  you  had  but  a  thousand  a  year  ? 

Robin  Ruff — 

I'd  do — I  scarcely  know  what,  Gaffer  Green, 

Fd  go — faith  I  scarcely  know  where; 
I'd  scatter  the  chink,  and  leave  others  to  think, 

If  I  had  but  a  thousand  a  year. 

Gaffer  Green — 

But  when  you  are  aged  and  gray,  Robin  Ruff, 

And  the  day  of  your  death  it  draws  near, 
Say,  what  with  your  pains,  would  you  do  with  your  gains, 

If  you  then  had  a  thousand*  a  year  ? 

Robin  Ruff — 

I  scarcely  can  tell  what  you  mean,  Gaffer  Green, 

For  your  questions  are  always  so  queer; 
But  as  other  folks  die,  I  suppose  so  must  I, — 
Gaffer  Green — 

What !  and  give  up  your  thousand  a  year  ? 

There's  a  place  that  is  better  than  this,  Robin  Ruff — 

And  I  hope  in  my  heart  you'll  go  there, 
Where  the  poor  man's  as  great,  though  he  hath  no  estate, 

Ay,  though  he'd  UA  tJiousand  a  year." 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  47 

JINNY  GREEN  AND  BOBBY  LUSH. 

A   PARODY    ON    GAFFER   GREEN. 

As  sung  by  Dick  Cunningham  and  Miss  Fanny  Gilmore. 

If  I  had  but  a  barrel  of  beer,  Jinny  Green, 
If  I  had  but  a  barrel  of  beer, 
How  jolly  I'd  be, 
As  I  drinked  it  so  free, 
If  I  had  but  a  barrel  of  beer,  Jinny  Green, 
If  I  had  but  a  barrel  of  beer  ! 

Now  if  I  had  a  wish,  take  my  word,  Bobby  Lush, 
'Tis  a  barrel  of  beef,  and  not  beer; 
For  I  always  shall  rue, 
That  the  last  I  e'er  knew, 
And  was  too  fond  of  drinking  beer,  Bobby  Lush, 
And  was  too  fond  of  drinking  beer. 

You  surely  don't  know  what  is  good,  Jinny  Green, 
Or  you'd  not  be  a  teetotaler ; 
Whatever  you  may  think, 
I'll  stick  to  my  drink, 
And  not  give  up  drinking  beer,  Jinny  Green, 
And  not  give  up  drinking  beer. 

If  you  live  to  be  aged  and  gray,  Bobby  Lush, 
Which  is  not  very  likely,  T  fear; 
Your  aches  and  your  pains 
"Will  be  all  your  gains, 
Which  you'll  get  by  drinking  your  beer,  Bobby  Lush, 
Which  you'll. get  by  drinking  your  beer. 

It  is  all  very  true  what  you  say,  Jinny  Green, 
And  drunkenness  I  cannot  bear; 
But  I  am  sure  I  should  die, 
If  I  was  but  to  try, 
To  give  up  drinking  my  beer,  Jinny  Green, 
To  give  up  drinking  my  beer. 


49  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


WOODMAN,  SPARE  THAT  TREE. 

Woodman,  spare  that  tree  ! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough, 
In  youth  it  shelter'cr  me, 

And  I'll  protect  it  now; 
'Twas  my  forefather's  hand, 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot; 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand, 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not. 


That  old  familiar  tree, 

Whose  glory  and  renown 
Are  spread  o'er  land  and  sea, 

And  would'st  thou  hack  it  down  ? 
Woodman,  forbear  thy  stroke, 

Cut  not  its  earth-bound  ties ; 
Oh  !  spare  that  aged  oak, 

Now  towering  to  the  skies ! 

When  but  an  idle  boy, 

I  sought  its  grateful  shade  j 
In  all  their  gushing  joy, 

Here  too  my  sisters  play'd. 
My  mother  kissed  me  here ; 

My  father  pressed  my  hand ; 
Forgive  this  foolish  tear, 

But  let  that  old  oak  stand  ! 


My  heart-strings  round  thee  cling, 

Close  as  thy  bark,  old  friend  ! 
Here  shall  the  wild  birds  sing, 

And  still  thy  branches  bend. 
Old  tree  !  the  storm  still  brave  ! 

And,  woodman,  leave  the  spot, 
While  I've  a  hand  to  save, 

Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not. 

George  P.  Morbi*- 


BONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  49 


DO  THEY  MISS  ME  AT  HOME. 

Do  they  miss  me  at  home,  do  they  miss  me? 

'T would  be  an  assurance  most  dear, 
To  know  that  this  moment  some  loved  one, 

Were  saying,  I  wish  he  were  here. 
To  feel  that  the  group  at  the  fireside 

Were  thinking  of  me  as  I  roam, 
Oh,  yes,  'twould  be  joy  beyond  measure 

To  know  that  they  miss'd  me  at  home, 

To  know  that  they  miss'd  me  at  home. 

When  twilight  approaches,  the  season 

That  ever  is  sacred  to  song, 
Does  some  one  repeat  my  name  over, 

And  sigh  that  I  tarry  so  long? 
And  is  there  a  chord  in  the  music 

That's  miss'd  when  my  voice  is  away, 
And  a  chord  in  each  heart  that  awaketk 

Regret  at  my  wearisome  stay, 

Regret  at  my  wearisome  stay  ? 

Do  they  set  me  a  chair  near  the  table, 
AVhen  ev'ning's  home  pleasures  are  nigh, 

When  the  candles  are  lit  in  the  parlor, 
And  the  stars  in  the  calm  azure  sky? 

And  when  the  "  good  nights"  are  repeated, 
And  all  lay  them  down  to  their  sleep, 

Do  they  think  of  the  absent,  and  waft  me 
A  whispered  "good  night"  while  they  weep, 
A  whispered  "good  night"  while  they  weep  \ 

Do  they  miss  me  at  home — do  they  miss  me 
At  morning,  at  noun,  or  at  night? 

And  lingers  one  gloomy  shade  round  them 
That  only  my  presence  can  light? 

Are  joys  less  invitingly  welcome, 
And  pleasures  less  hale  than  before, 

Because  one  is  miss'd  from  the  circle, 
Because  I  am  with  them  no  more, 
Because  I  am  with  them  no  more? 


4 


50  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

WHAT  IS  HOME  WITHOUT  A  MOTHER. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Lee  &  Walker,  Music  publishers,  722  Chestnut 
street,  Philadelphia. 

What  is  home  without  a  mother  ? 

What  are  all  the  joys  we  meet, 
When  her  loving  smile  no  longer 

G-reets  the  coming,  coming  of  our  feet  ? 
The  days  seem  long,  the  nights  are  drear, 

And  time  rolls  slowly  on  : 
And  oh  !  how  few  are  childhood's  pleasures, 

When  her  gentle  care  is  gone. 
Things  we  prize  are  .first  to  vanish  : 

Hearts  we  love  to  pass  away : 
And  how  soon,  e'en  in  our  childhood, 

We  behold  her  turning,  turning  gray  ! 
Her  eye  grows  dim,  her  step  is  slow, 

Her  joys  on  earth  are  past : 
And  sometimes  ere  we  learn  to  know  her, 

She  hath  breathed  on  earth,  on  earth  her  last. 
Older  hearts  may  have  their  sorrows, 

Griefs  that  quickly  die  away, 
But  a  mother  lost  in  childhood, 

Grieves  the  heart,  the  heart  from  day  to  day.: 
We  miss  her  kind,  her  willing  hand, 

Her  fond  and  earnest  care, 
And,  oh  !  how  dark  is  life  around  us  : 

What  is  Home  without  her  there  ? 

THERE'S  ROOM  ENOUGH  FOR  ALL.  . 

What  need  of  all  this  fuss  and  strife, 

Each  warring  with  his  brother  ? 
Why  need  we  through  the  crowd  of  life, 

Keep  trampling  on  each  other  ? 
Is  there  no  goal  that  can  be  won, 

Without  a  squeeze  to  gain  it  ? 
No  other  way  of  getting  on, 

But  scrambling  to  obtain  it  ? 
Oh,  fellow  men,  remember  then, 

Whatever  chance  befall, 
The  world  is  wide  in  lands  beside, 

There's  room  enough  for  all. 


SONGS    OP    SENTIMENT.  51 

What  if  the  swarthy  peasant  find 

No  field  for  honest  labour? 
He  need  not  idly  stop  behind, 

To  thrust  aside  his  neighbour. 
There  is  a  land  with  sunny  skies, 

Which  gold  for  toil  is  giving, 
Where  every  brawny  hand  that  tries 

Its  strength  can  grasp  a  living. 
Oh,  fellow  men  remember,  &c. 

COME,  COME  AWAY. 

On  !  come,  come  away,  from  labour  now  reposing, 
Let  busy  care  awhile  forbear, 

Oh  come,  come  away  : 
Come,  come,  our  social  joys  renew, 
And  there  where  trust  aud  friendship  grew, 
Let  true  hearts  welcome  you, 

Oh  come,  come  away. 

From  toil  and  cares,  on  whicb  the  day  is  closing, 
The  hour  of  eve,  brings  sweet  reprieve, 

Oh  come,  come  away  : 
Oh  come,  where  love  will  smile  on  thee, 
And  round  its  hearth  will  gladness  be, 
And  time  fly  merrily, 

Oh  come,  come  away. 

While  sweet  Philomel,  1he  weary  trav'ller  cheering, 
With  evening  songs,  her  note  prolongs, 

Oh  come,  come  away  : 
In  answering  songs  of  sympathy, 
We'll  sing  in  tuneful  harmony, 
Of  hope,  joy,  liberty, 
Oh  come,  come  away. 

The  bright  day  is  gone,  the  moon  and  stars  appearing, 
With  silver  light,  illume  the  night, 

Oh  come,  come  away  : 
Come  join  your  prayers  with  ours;  address 
Kind  heaven,  our  peaceful  home  to  bless, 
With  health,  hope,  happiness, 

Oh  come,  come  away. 


62  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

LET  THE  TOAST  BE  DEAR  WOMAN. 

Bright,  bright  are  the  beams  of  the  morning  skies, 

And  sweet  dew  the  red  blossom  sips, 
But  brighter  the  glances  of  dear  woman's  eyes, 

And  sweet  is  the  dew  on  her  lips; 
Her  mouth  is  the  fountain  of  rapture, 

A  source  from  whence  purity  flows, 
Oh  !  who  would  not  taste  of  its  magic, 

As  the  honey-bee  sips  of  the  rose  ? 
Chorus — 

Then  the  toast,  then  the  toast,  be  "  dear  woman," 

Let  each  breast  that  is  manly  approve ; 
Then  the  toast,  then  the  toast,  be  "  dear  woman/' 

And  nine  cheers  for  the  girls  that  we  love. 

Hip  !  hip  !  hurrah  !  hip  !  hip  !  hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 

And  nine  cheers  for  the  girls  that  we  love. 
Come  raise,  raise  the  wine-cup  to  heaven  high ; 

Ye  gods  of  Olympus  approve, 
The  offering  thus  mellow'd  by  woman's  bright  eye, 

Out  rivals  the  nectar  of  Jove. 
Then  drain,  drain  the  goblet  with  transport; 

A  spell  of  life's  best  joy  impart; 
The  cup  thus  devoted  to  woman, 

Yields  the  only  true  balm  to  the  heart. 
-Then  the  toast,  &c. 

SWIFT  AS  THE  FLASH. 
Swift  as  the  flash,  that  mocks  the  sight, 
Thou  seem'st  a  bird  in  airy  flight, 

When  home  returning, 
We  leave  these  cool  fountains, 
In  our  native  mountains, 
Thy  praise  we'll  recite  : 
Swift  as  the,  &c. 

Thy  steps  so  light,  our  songs  invite, 
Come  fairy  sprite,  our  eyes  delight; 

When  home  returning, 
We  leave  these  cool  fountains, 
In  our  native  mountains, 

Thy  praise  we'll  recite  : 
Swift  as  the,  &c. 


80NGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  58 

"  THE  HEART  BOW'D  DOWN," 

From  the  Bohemian  Girl. 
Tiie  heart  bow'd  down  by  weight  and  woe, 

To  weakest  hopes  will  cling, 
To  thought  and  impulse  while  they  flow, 

That  can  no  comfort  bring. 
With  those  exciting  scenes  will  blend 

O'er  pleasure's  pathway  thrown, — 
But  misery  is  the  only  friend 

That  grief  can  call  its  own. 
The  mind  will  in  its  worst  despair, 

Still  ponder  o'er  the  past, 
On  moments  of  delight  that  were 

Too  beautiful  to  last ; 
To  long  departed  years  extend 

Its  visions  with  them  flown, 
For  mem'ry  is  the  only  friend 

That  grief  can  call  its  own. 

WILLIE,  WE  HAVE  MISSED  YOU. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond,  &  Co.,  publishers,  547  Broadway, 
N.  Y. 

Oh  !  Willie,  is  it  you,  dear,  safe,  safe  at  home  ? 

They  did  not  tell  me  true,  dear,  they  said  you  would  not  come. 

I  heard  you  at  the  gate,  and  it  made  my  heart  rejoice, 

For  I  knew  that  welcome  footstep,  and  that  dear  familiar  voice, 

Making  music  on  my  ear,  in  the  lonely  midnight  gloom, 

Oh  !  Willie,  we  have  missed  you;  welcome,  welcome  home. 

We  longed  to  see  you  nightly,  but  this  night  of  all ; 

The  fire  was  burning  brightly,  and  lights  were  in  the  hall, 

The  little  ones  were  up  till  ten  o'clock  and  past, 

Then  their  eyes  began  to  twinkle,  and  they  went  to  sleep  at  last ; 

But  they  listened  for  your  voice,  till  they  thought  you'd  never 

come, 
Oh  !  "Willie,  we  have  missed  you;  welcome,  welcome  home. 
The  days  were  sad  without  you,  the  nights  long  and  drear, 
My  dreams  have  been  about  you,  oh,  welcome,  Willie  dear, 
Last  night  I  wept  and  watched,  by  the  moonlight's  cheerless  ray. 
Till  I  thought  I  heard  your  footstep,  then  I  wiped  my  tears 

away, 
But  my  heart  grew  sad  again,  when  I  found  you  had  not  come ; 
Oh!  Willie,  we  have  missed  you;  welcome,  welcome  home. 


54 


SONGS    OP    SENTIMENT. 


"'TIS  BETTER  TO  LAUGH   THAN  BE  SIGHING." 

From  Donizetti's  "  Lucrezia  Borgia." 


It    is      bet-ter    to  laugh  than  be    sigh 


ing.TVhen  we  think  how  life's  moments  are 


fly-ing,  For  each  sor-row  fate    ev  -  er    is    bring-  •  -  ing,  There's  a  ploasure  in  store  for  us 

-S- 


springing,  Tho' our  joys  like  the  waves  in  the  sunshine,  Gleam  a- while  then  be  lost    to  the 
„ — .  -^,  rail 


^E^fr-^*-^      ^     'h^g 


"WTPmPi 


Jv-sr-* 


l^e=^ 


*-** 


3t3E 


sight :  Yet  for  etch  sparkling  ray  that  so  passes    a-way,  Comes  another  as  bril-liant 
S^p  CHORUS. 


gay,  When  we  think  how  life's  moments  are  fly-ing,   Oh  I  en  -joy  pleasure's  gifts  while  we  may. 


It  is  better  to  laugh  than  be  sighing, 
"When  we  think  how  life's  moments  are  flying, 
For  each  sorrow  fate  ever  is  bringing, 
There's  a  pleasure  in  store  for  us  springing. 
Though  our  joys  like  the  waves  in  the  sunshine, 

Gleam  awhile,  then  be  lost  to  the  sight : 
Yet  for  each  sparkling  ray  that  so  passes  away, 

Comes  another  as  brilliant  and  light. 
Then  'tis  better,  &c. 

In  the  world,  we  some  beings  discover, 
Far  too  frigid  for  friends  or  for  lover, 
Souls  unblest  and  forever  repining, 
Though  good  fortune  around  them  be  shining. 
It  were  well  if  such  hearts  we  could  banish, 

To  some  planet  far  distant  from  ours, 
They're  the  dark  spots  we  trace,  on  this  earth's  favored  space, 

They're  the  weeds  that  choke  up  the  fair  flowers. 
Then  'tis  better,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


55 


"EVER   BE    HAPPY." 

by  kin&BOa  Music  by  Balte. 


Ev-erbe  happy  wher-ev-er  thou  art,    Leaving  a    broken  heart ;  Still  be  thy  bosom  un 


^~^  1      ;  ~r~-r    -r-^-L     F'E*1-*-!-—^-^ 


5C4 


cloud-ed  with  eare,    Tho"  I   no  more  am  there.  Yet,  like  a   star,  worshipp'd  *  -  far,  Purely 


loTed  still  thou  art, Loved  by  a  broken  heart ;  Ever  be  happywherever  thou  art, Loved  by  a  broken  heart. 

Ever  be  happy  wherever  thou  art, 

Leaving  a  broken  heart : 
Still  be  thy  bosom  unclouded  with  care, 

Though  I  no  more  am  there. 
Yet,  like  a  star,  worshipp'd  afar, 

Purely  loved  still  thou  art, 

Loved  by  a  broken  heart. 
Ever  be  happy  wherever  thou  art, 

Loved  by  a  broken  heart. 

"Well  I  remember  the  hours  that  we  met ; 

Oh  1  that  I  could  forget ! 
Oh  !  that  oblivion  might  haply  o'ercast, 

Joys  that  too  brightly  pass'd. 
Oh  !  that  my  soul  thought  might  control. 

And  forget  that' thou  wert 

Loved  by  a  trusting  heart, 
Ever  be  happy  wherever  thou  art, 

Loved  by  a  trusting  heart. 

I  can  but  bless  thee  wherever  thou  art, 

Bless  thee  with  hopeless  heart ! 
I  can  but  pray  that  no  grief  shall  be  thine, 

Grief  such  as  now  is  mine. 
Though  in  the  dust  lies  all  my  trust, 

Yet  beloved  still  thou  art, 

Loved  by  a  changeless  heart. 
Ever  be  happy  wherever  thou  art, 

Loved  bv  a  changeless  heart. 


' 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

"WE  MEET  BY  CHANCE." 

When  evening  brings  the  twilight  hour 

I  pass  a  lonely  spot, 
Where  oft  she  comes  to  cull  the  flower, 

We  call  "  Forget-me-not." 
She  never  whispers  go,  nor  stay ; 
We  meet  by  chance,  the  usual  way. 

Once,  how  I  cannot  well  divine, 
Unless  by  chance  we  kissed ; 

I  found  her  lips  were  close  to  mine, 
So  I  could  not  resist. 

As  neither  whispered  yea,  nor  nay, 

They  met  by  chance,  the  usual  way. 

The  roses,  when  the  zephyrs  woo, 
Impart  what  they  receive, 

They  sigh  and  sip  the  balmy  dew, 
But  never  whisper  give. 

Our  love  is  mutual,  this  we  know 

Though  neither  tells  the  other  so. 


Kucken. 


'TIS  HOME  WHERE  THE  HEART  IS. 

Music  published  by  Firth,  Pond,  <fc  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 
'Tis  home  where  e'er  the  heart  is, 

Where  e'er  its  loved  ones  dwell, 
In  cities,  or  in  cottages, 

Throng'd  haunts  or  mossy  dell. 
The  heart's  a  rover  ever, 

And  thus  on  wave  and  wild, 
The  maiden  with  her  lover  walks, 

The  mother  with  her  child. 

'Tis  bright  where  e'er  the  heart  is, 

Its  fairy  spell  can  bring 
Fresh  fountains  to  the  wilderness, 

And  to  the  desert  spring. 
Green  isles  are  in  the  ocean, 

O'er  which  affection  glides, 
A  haven  on  each  sunny  shore, 

When  love's  the  sun  that  guides. 


SONGS    OF   SENTIMENT.  5T 

'Tis  free  where  e'er  the  heart  is, 

Nor  chains,  nor  dungeons  dim, 
May  check  the  mind's  aspiring  thought, 

The  spirit's  pealing  hymn. 
The  heart  gives  life  its  beauty, 

Its  glory  and  its  powers  : 
'Tis  sunlight  to  the  rippling  stream, 

And  soft  dew  to  its  flowers. 


THE  CAVALIER. 


'Twas  a  beautiful  night, 

The  stars  shone  bright, 
And  the  moon  o'er  the  waters  play'd, 

When  a  Cavalier 

To  a  bower  drew  near, 
A  lady  to  serenade. 

To  tend'rest  words 

He  swept  the  chords, 
And  many  a  sigh  breathed  he ) 

While  o'er  and  o'er 

He  fondly  swore — 
"  Sweet  maid  !  I  love  but  thee, 

Sweet  maid,  sweet  maid, 

Sweet  maid,  I  love  but  thee." 

He  rais'd  his  eye 

To  her  lattice  high, 
While  he  softly  breathed  his  hopes, 

With  amazement  he  sees 

Swing  about  in  the  breeze, 
Already,  a  ladder  of  ropes  ! 

Up,  up  he  has  gone, 

The  bird  is  flown  ! 
"What's  this  on  the  ground  ?"  quoth  he — 

"  Oh,  it's  plain  that  she  loves, 

Here's  some  gentleman's  gloves, 
She's  off  and  it's  not  with  me, 

For  these  gloves,  these  gloves, 

They  never  belong'd  to  me." 


59  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

Of  course,  you'd  have  thought, 

He'd  have  followed  and  fought, 
As  that  was  a  "  duelling  age," 

But  this  gay  Cavalier 

He  quite  scorn'd  the  idea 
Of  putting  himself  in  a  rage  : 

More  wise  by  far. 

He  put  up  his  guitar, 
And  as  homeward  he  went,  sung  he — 

"  When  a  lady  elopes 

Down  a  ladder  of  ropes — 
She  may  go  to — Hong  Kong  for  me — 

She  may  go,  she  may  go, 

She  may  go,  to— Hong  Kong  for  me.'' 


TWINKLING  STARS. 

Twinkling  stars  are  laughing,  love, 

Laughing  on  you  and  me,    , 
While  your  bright  eyes  look  in  mine, 

Peeping  stars  they  seem  to  be; 
Troubles  come  and  go,  love, 

Brightest  scenes  must  leave  our  sight, 
But  the  star  of  hope,  love, 

Shines  with  radiant  beams  to-night. 
Chorus — Twinkling  stars  are  laughing  love, 

Laughing  on  you  and  me. 
While  your  bright  eyes  look  in  mine, 

Peeping  stars  they  seem  to  be. 

Golden  beams  are  shining,  love, 

Shining  on  you  to  bless, 
Like  the  queen  of  night,  you  fill 

Darkest  space  with  loveliness. 
Silver  stars  how  bright,  love, 

Mother  moon  in  thronely  might, 
Gaze  on  us  to  bless,  love, 

Purest  vows  here  made  to-night. 
Twinkling  stars,  &c. 


SONGS    OF   SENTIMENT.  59 

OLD  DOG  TRAY. 

The  mom  of  life  is  past,  and  evening  conies  at  last; 

It  brings  me  a  dream  of  a  once  happy  day, 
Of  many  forms  I've  seen,  upon  the  village  green, 
Sporting  with  my  old  Dog  Tray. 
CJiorus — Old  Dog  Tray's  ever  faithful, 

Grief  cannot  drive  him  away. 
He's  gentle,  he  is  kind;  I'll  never,  never  find 
A  better  friend  than  old  Dog  Tray. 
The  forms  I  called  my  own,  have  vanished  one  by  one, 
The  loved  ones,  the  dear  ones  have  all  passed  away, 
Their  happy  smiles  have  flown,  their  gentle  voices  gone; 
I  have  nothing  left  but  old  Dog  Tray. 
Old  Dog  Tray's  ever  faithful,  &c. 

When  thoughts  recall  the  past,  his  eyes  are  on  me  cast, 

I  know  that  he  feels  what  my  breaking  heart  would  say, 
Although  he  cannot  speak,  I'll  vainly,  vainly  seek 
A  better  friend  than  old  Dog  Tray. 
Old  Dog  Tray's  ever  faithful,  &c. 
MY  OWN  NATIVE  LAND. 

I've  roved  over  mountain,  I've  crossed  over  flood, 

I've  traversed  the  wave-rolling  sand  ; 
Though  the  fields  were  as  green,  and  the  moon  shone  as  bright, 

Yet  it  was  not  my  own  native  land. 

No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no.     No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no, 
Though  the  fields  were  as  green,  and  the  moon  shone  as  bright, 

Yet  it  was  not  my  own  native  land. 
The  right  hand  of  friendship  how  oft  I  have  grasped, 

And  bright  eyes  have  smiled  and  looked  bland; 
Yet  happier  far  were  the  hours  that  I  passed 

In  the  West — in  my  own  native  land. 

Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes.     Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes, 
Yet  happier  far  were  the  hours  that  I  passed 

In  the  West — in  my  own  native  land. 
Then  hail  dear  Columbia,  the  land  that  we  love, 

Where  flourishes  Liberty's  tree; 
The  birth-place  of  Freedom,  our  own  native  home, 

'Tis  the  land,  'tis  the  land  of  the  free  ! 

Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  ]  3,  yes,  yes,  yes, 

The  birth-place  of  Freedom,  our  own  native  home, 

'Tis  the  land,   'tis  the  land  of  the  free  ! 


<fO  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

LULU  IS  OUR  DARLING  PRIDE. 

Printed  by  permission  of  J.  E.  Gould,  publisher,  Philadelphia. 

Lulu  is  our  darling  pride, 

Lulu  bright,  Lulu  gay; 
Dancing  lightly  at  our  side 

All  the  livelong  day. 
Not  a  bird  that  wings  the  air 

Soaring  to  the  sun, 
Freer  is  from  every  care 

Than  our  darling  one. 
Chorus — Oh,  Lulu  is  our  darling  pride, 

Lulu  bright,  Lulu  gay, 
Dancing  lightly  at  our  side 

All  the  livelong  day. 

As  the  flowers  of  early  spring 

Seem  more  bright,  seem  more  gay, 
As  their  perfume  first  they  fling 

Fragrant  at  our  feet, 
So  tho'  others  lov'd  there  be, 

Blooming  in  our  bower, 
Lulu  wins  our  hearts, 

For  she's  our  loveliest  flower. 
Oh,  Lulu  is  our  darling  pride, 

Lulu  bright,  Lulu  gay, 
Dancing  lightly  at  our  side 

All  the  livelong  day. 


When  the  clouds  of  trouble  come, 

Lulu  soothes  all  our  care; 
Ah,  how  dark  would  be  our  home 

Were  not  Lulu  there ! 
Lulu  with  her  sunny  smile, 

Cheering  every  heart, 
Till  each  trouble  she  beguiles, 

And  the  clouds  depart. 
Oh,  Lulu  is  our  darling  pride, 

Lulu  bright,  Lulu  gay, 
Dancing  lightly  at  our  side 

All  the  livelong  day. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  61 

THE  OLD  ARM  CHAIR. 

I  love  it,  I  love  it,  and  who  shall  dare, 

To  chide  me  for  loving  that  Old  Ann  Chair? 

I've  treasured  it  long  as  a  holy  prize, 

I've  bedew'd  it  with  tears  and  einbalm'd  it  with  sighs; 

"Pis  bound  by  a  thousand  bands  to  my  heart, 

Not  a  tie  will  break,  not  a  link  will  start. 

Would  ye  learn  the  spell,  a  mother  sat  there, 

And  a  sacred  thing  is  that  Old  Arm  Chair. 

I  sat  and  watch'd  her  many  a  day, 

When  her  eyes  grew  dim,  and  her  locks  grew  gray; 

And  I  almost  worshipp'd  her  when  she  smil'd 

And  turn'd  from  her  Bible  to  bless  her  child. 

Years  roll'd  on,  but  the  last  one  sped, 

My  idol  was  shatter'd,  my  earth-star  fled  ; 

I  learnt  how  much  the  heart  can  bear, 

When  I  saw  her  die  in  that  Old  Arm  Chair. 

"Tis  past,  'tis  past,  but  I  gaze  on  it  now, 
With  quivering  breath,  and  throbbing  brow, 
'Twas  there  she  nurs'd  me,  'twas  there  she  died, 
And  mem'ry  flows  with  lava  tide. 
Say  it  is  folly,  and  deem  me  weak, 
While  the  scalding  drops  start  down  my  cheek; 
But  I  love  it,  I  love  it,  and  cannot  tear 
My  soul  from  a  mother's  Old  Arm  Chair. 

Eliza  Cook. 

THE  BRAVE  OLD  OAK. 

Sung  by  Mr.  Russell. 
A  SONG  of  the  oak,  the  brave  old  oak, 

Who  hath  ruled  in  the  greenwood  long; 
Here's  health  and  renown  to  his  broad  green  crown, 

And  his  fifty  arms  so  strong. 
There  is  fear  in  his  frown,  when  the  sun  goes  down, 

And  the  fire  in  the  west  fades  out; 
And  he  showoth  hia  might,  on  a  wild  midnight, 

When  storms  through  his  branches  shout. 
Then  sing  to  the  oak,  the  brave  old  oak, 

Who  hath  ruled  in  his  land  so  long; 
And  still  flourish  he  a  hale  green  tree, 

When  a  hundred  years  are  gone. 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 


He  saw  the  times,  when  the  Christmas  chimes 

Were  a  merry  sound  to  hear; 
And  the  squire's  wide  hall,  and  the  cottage  small, 

Were  full  of  American  cheer; 
And  all  the  d;iy,  to  the  rebeck  gay, 

They  froliek'd  with  lovesome  swains; 
They  are  gone,  they  are  dead,  in  the  churchyard  laid, 
But  the  tree,  he  still  remains. 
Then  sing  to  the  oak,  &c. 

f 
'  LITTLE  NELL. 

They  told  him,  gently,  she  was  dead, 

And  spoke  of  heaven  and  snTtleoTJ 
Then  drew  him  from  the  lonely  room, 

Where  lay  the  lovely  child. 
'Twas  all  in  vain,  he  heeded  not 

Their  pitying  looks  of  sorrow.  •  ^ 

"  Hush  !  hush  l"  he  cried,  "  she  only  sleeps, 

She'll  wake  again  to-morrow  !" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  &o. 

They  laid  her  in  a  lowly  grave, 

Where  winds  blew  high  and  bleak ; 
Though  the  faintest  summer  breeze  had  been 

Too  rough  to  fan  her  cheek. 
And  there  the  poor  old  man  would  watch,  . 

In  strange,  though  childish,  sorrow,  \ 

And  whisper  to  himself  the  words, 

"  She'll  come  again  to-morrow  !" 

And  whisper,  &c. 

One  day  they  missed  him  long,  and  sought 

Where  most  he  loved  to  stray : 
They  found  him  dead  upon  the  turf, 

Where  little  Nelly  lay. 
With  tottering  steps  he'd  wander'd  there, 

Fresh  hope  and  strength  to  borrow, 
And  e'en  in  dying  breath'd  this  prayer, 

"  Oh  !  let  her  come  to-morrow  V\ 

The  old  man,  dying,  breath'd  the  prayer, 
•(  Oh  !  let  her  come  to-morrow  I" 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT  63 


FAREWELL  TO  THE   HOME  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD. 

Farewell  to  the  home  of  my  childhood, 

Farewell  to  my  cottage  and  vine, 
I  go  to  the  land  of  the  stranger, 

Wherepleasure  alone  will  be  mine. 
When  life's  fleeting  journey  is  over, 

And  earth  again  mingles  with  earth, 
I  can  rest  in  the  land  of  the  stranger, 

As  well  as  in  that  of  my  birth. 
Yes,  these  were  my  feelings  at  parting, 

But  absence  soon  alter'd  their  tone; 
The  cold  hand  of  sickness  came  o'er  me, 

And  I  wept  o'er  my  sorrow  alone. 

No  friend  came  near  me  to  cheer  me, 

No  parent  to  soften  my  grief, 
Nor  brother,  nor  sister,  were  near  me, 

And  strangers  could  give  no  relief. 
'Tis  true  that  it  matters  but  little, 

Though  living,  the  thought  makes  one  pine, 
.   Whatever  befalls  the  poor  relic, 

WThen  the  spirit  has  flown  from  its  shrine. 
But,  oh!  when  life's  journey  is  over, 

And  earth  again  mingles  with  earth, 
Lamented  or  not,  still  my  wish  is, 

To  rest  in  the  land  of  my  birth. 


OH!  SHARE  MY  COTTAGE. 

By  J.  Shrival,  formerly  of  the  "  Seguin  Opera  Troupe.", 

Oh  !  share  my  cottage,  gentle  maid, 

It  only  waits  for  thee, 
To  give  a  sweetness  to  its  shade, 

And  happiness,  happiness  to  me. 
Here  from  the  splendid  gay  parade, 

Of  noise  and  folly  free, 
No  sorrows  can  my  peace  invade, 

If  only  bless'd  with  thee. 

Then  share  my  cottage,  &c. 


64  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

The  hawthorn  with  the  woodbine  twin'd, 

Present  their  sweets  to  thee,  ,  1 

And  ev'ry  balmy  breath  of  wind, 

Is  fill'd  with  harmony. 
A  truly  fond  and  faithful  heart, 

Is  all  I  offer  thee, 
And  canst  thou  see  me  thus  depart, 

A  prey  to  misery  ? 

Then  share  my  cottage,  &c. 

THE  IVY  GREEN. 

Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  ivy  green, 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old : 
Of  right  choice  food  are  his  meals,  I  ween, 

In  his  cell,  so  lone  and  cold. 
The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed, 

To  pleasure  his  dainty  whim ; 
And  the  mouldering  dust  that  years  have  made, 

Is  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  ivy  green. 
Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  wears  no  wings 

And  a  staunch  old  head  has  he ; 
How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings, 

To  his  friend,  the  huge  oak  tree. 
And  slily  he  traileth  along  the  ground, 

And  his  leaves  he  gently  waves ; 
As  he  joyously  hugs,  and  crawleth  round 

The  rich  mould  of  dead  men's  graves. 

Creeping  where  grim  death  hath  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  ivy  green. 
Whole  ages  have  fled,  and  works  decayed, 

And  nations  have  scattered  been  ! 
But  the  stout  old  ivy  shall  never  fade, 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 
The  brave  old  plant  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  fatten  upon  the  past; 
For  the  stateliest  building  man  can  raise, 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creeping  on  where  time  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  ivy  green. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  65 

THE  LORDS  OF  CREATION. 

The  lords  of  creation  men  wc  call, 

And  tha-y  think  they  rule  the  whole, 
But  they're  much  mistaken  alter  all, 

For  they're  under  woman's  control. 
As  ever  since  the  world  began, 

It  has  always  been  the  way, 
For  did  not  Adam,  the  very  first  man, 

The  very  first  woman  obey,  obey,  obey? 

The  very  first  woman  obey  ? 

Ye  lords,  who  at  present  hear  my  song, 

I  know  you  will  quickly  say; 
"Our  sizes  more  large,  our  nerves  more  strong; 

Shall  the  stronger  the  weaker  obey  I" 
But  think  not  though  these  words  we  hear, 

We  shall  e'er  mind  the  thing  you  say; 
For  as  long  as  a  woman's  possessed  of  a  tear, 

Your  power  will  vanish  away. 

THE  ROCK  BESIDE  THE  SEA! 

Music  published  by  Lee  &  Walker,  722  Chestnut  street,  Phila. 

Oh,  tell  me  not  the  woods  are  fair, 

Now  spring  is  on  her  way : 
Well,  well  I  know  how  brightly  there, 

In  joy  the  young  leaves  play : 
How  sweet,  on  winds  of  morn  or  eve, 

The  violet's  breath  may  be, 


Yet  ask  me,  woo  me  not  to  leave 


My  lone  rock  by  the  sea. 


[■  Repeat. 


The  wild  waves'  thunder  on  the  shore, 

The  curlews'  restless  cries, 
Unto  my  watching  heart  are  more 

Than  all  earth's  melodies. 
Come  back  my  ocean  rover,  come  ! 

There's  hut  one  place  for  me, 
Till  I  can  greet  thy  swift  sail  home — 

My  lone  rock  by  tin-  sea  ! 


66 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 


"IN  THIS   OLD  CHAIR." 

Music  by  M.  W.  Bair. 


In  this  old  chair  my  father  sat,      In  this  my  moth-er  smiled,  I  hear  their 

-b '  k r- : ^- 


hlessings  on  me  wait.  And  feel  my  -  self   a  child,      I  feel  the      kiss  of  their  fond 


^gfc^    Sj*-> V— tt-ft- T — \ — *-r—f    r    r    y ' 

'M- — 1 — «L_S_*-=t U_^   'fr--*~      *!  =* — U — & — V — y — £-- 

love, 


Oh !  joy,  oh  !  joy,     too  bright  to    last,   Ah  !  why  will  cm  -  el    time  re- 


move,  Or     mem'ry  paint    the  past?  Or    mem'ry     paint     the   past? 

And  here,  alas  !  when  they  were  gone 

In  beauty's  own  array, 
A  pitying  angel  on  me  shone, 

To  chase  each  grief  away ; 
But  oh  !  it  was  delusive  love, 

Alas  !  too  pure,  too  sweet  to  last, 
And  if  such  dream  time  must  remove, 

Why,  mem'ry,  paint  the  past  ? 

"THOU   ART   MINE   OWN,  LOVE." 


Thou  art  mine  own,  love,  how  can  I  bear  to  part  !  That  thou  hast  all  my  heart,  dearest,  believe! 


Thou  hast  this  soul  of  mine— so  wholly  is    it  thine,  That  I  can  love  no  one  but  thee  a  -  lone. 

Blue  is  the  flow'ret,  called  the  "Forget-me-not !" 

Ah  !  lay  it  on  thy  heart  and  think  of  me ; 

Should  hope  fade  with  the  flowers,  love's  wealth  shall  still  be  ours, 

That  will  remain  with  me,  dearest,  believe  ! 

Were  I  a  bird,  love,  soon  would  I  fly  to  thee, 
Falcon  nor  hawk  to  me  should  terror  bring  j 
If  shot  by  huntsman's  hand,  I  at  thy  feet  lay  dead, 
If  thou  one  tear  would'st  shed,  gladly  I'd  die. 


SONGS    OP   SENTIMENT 


"SOME   ONE   TO   LOVE." 


Words  by  James  Simmons. 


J.  R.  Thomas. 


Some  >ne  to  love  in  this  wide  world  of  sorrow,  Some  one  whose  smile  will  efface  the  sad  tear ; 


gEgfe4^ 


t 
Some  one  to  welcome  the  light  of  to  -  morrow,  Some  one  to  share  it  when  sunshine     ia  here. 


fp 


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sp^:« 


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Oh !  the  world  is    a     de-sert       a  -  mid  all  its  pleasures,  And  life  seems  be-reft    of    the 
4— es-i— 


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pm 


on   •    ly     true  rest,       If  we     fail       in       pos  -  sess  -  ing        with    all     its     proud 

rnU.  Ad.  Lro.  D-C 


75*;  _ 

bless-ings,  aome  dear     kin  -  dred  breast. 


S35E 


trea-sures,     The     best     of 


Some  one  to  love  in  this  wide  world  of  sorrow, 

Some  one  whose  smile  will  efface  the  sad  tear; 
Some  one  to  welcome  the  light  of  to-morrow, 

Some  one  to  share  it  when  sunshine  is  here. 
Oh  !  the  world  is  a  desert  amid  all  its  pleasures, 

And  life  seems  bereft  of  the  only  true  zest, 
If  we  fail  in  possessing  with  all  its  proud  treasures, 

The  best  of  all  blessings,  some  dear  kindred  breast. 
Some  one  to  love,  &c. 

Some  one  to  love  whose  affection  will  cherish 

The  sweet  bud  of  hope  when  'tis  blighted  with  care; 
Some  faithful  heart  that  will  ne'er  let  it  perish 

By  sinking  forever  in  depths  of  despair. 
'Tis  an  angelic  radiance,  a  beacon  to  guide  us, 

Resembling  those  lamps  that  are  shining  above, 
'Tis  a  guardian  from  heaven,  a  light  to  decide  us, 

Teaching  us  lessons  of  wisdom  and  love. 
Some  one  to  love,  &c. 


03  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

DON'T  BE  ANGRY,  MOTHER ! 

Don't  be  angry,  mother,  mother, 

Let  thy  smiles  be  smiles  of  joy, 
Don't  be  angry,  mother,  mother, 

Don't  be  angry  with  thy  boy. 
Years  have  flown  since  we  have  traversed 

O'er  the  dark  and  stormy  sea; 
Whilst  your  boy,  quite  broken-hearted, 

Ne'er  has  ceased  to  think  of  thee. 

Don't  be  angry,  mother,  mother, 

Let  the  world  say  what  it  will, 
Though  I  don't  deserve  thy  favor, 

Yet  I  fondly  love  thee  still ; 
We  have  lived  and  loved  together, 

And  our  hearts  ne'er  knew  a  pain, 
But  forgive  me,  mother,  mother, 

Oh,  forgive  thy  boy  again. 

Pray  remember,  mother,  mother, 

I've  been  kneeling  at  thy  feet, 
And  I  am  dreaming  of  thee  nightly, 

While  reclining  in  my  sleep; 
But  forgive  me,  mother,  mother, 

It  will  ease  thy  heart  of  pain, 
But  forgive  me,  mother,  mother, 

Oh  forgive  thy  boy  again. 

THE  OLD  PLAY-GROUND. 

I'm  sitting  to-day  in  the  old  play-ground, 

Where  you  and  I  have  sat  so  oft  together, 
I'm  thinking  of  the  joys  when  you  and  I  were  boys, 

In  the  merry  days  now  gone,  John,  forever ; 
'Twas  here  we  sat  in  the  merry  olden  time, 

And  we  dreamed  of  the  wide  world  before  us, 
And  our  visions  and  hopes  of  the  coming  time 

Were  as  bright  as  the  sun  that  shone  o'er  us. 

CJioyms. — I'm  sitting  to-day  in  the  old  play  ground, 
Where  you  and  I  have  sat  so  oft  together, 

I'm  thinking  of  the  joys  when  you  and  I  were  boys, 
In  those  merry  days  now  gone,  John,  forever. 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT.  69 

O'er  the  threshold,  John,  we  passed  forlorn, 

To  wander  we  knew  not  where, 
The  heaven  we  thought  so  bright  was  o'ershadowed  by  night, 

And  the  pathway  lay  dark  and  drear. 
But  I  am  sitting  to-day  in  the  old  play  ground, 

Where  you  and  I  have  sat  so  oft  together, 
And  these  memories  wild  have  made  me  a  child, 

As  in  the  merry  days  now  gone,  John,  forever. 
Chorus. — I'm  sitting  to-day,  <tc. 

THERE'S  A  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

A  good  time  coming; 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

Wait  a  little  longer  j 
We  may  not  live  to  see  the  day, 
But  earth  shall  glisten  in  the  ray 

Of  the  good  time  coming; 
Cannon  balls  may  aid  the  truth, 

But  thought's  a  weapon  stronger; 
We'll  win  our  battles  by  its  aid, 

Wait  a  little  longer. 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

A  good  time  coming, 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

Wait  a  little  longer. 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

A  good  time  coming; 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

Wait  a  little  longer; 
The  pen  shall  supersede  the  sword, 
And  right,  not  might,  shall  be  the  lord, 

In  the  good  time  coming; 
Worth,  not  birth,  shall  rule  mankind, 

And  be  acknowledged  stronger, 
The  proper  impulse  has  been  given, 

Wait  a  little  longer. 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

A  good  time  coming; 
There's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

Wait  a  little  longer. 


70  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

THE  GASCON  VESPEKS. 
Hark  !  the  merry  peal  is  ringing, 

List  ye,  how  the  bells  around, 
O'er  the  Garonne's  banks  are  flinging, 

Far  and  near,  their  cheerful  sound. ' 
Hark  ye !  how  each  Gascon  maiden, 

To  the  rising  moon  now  sings; 
While  with  sweets  the  night  breeze  laden, 

Wafts  their  voices  on  its  wings. 

Haste  then,  stranger,  join  our  chorus, 
Come  then  with  onr  maidens  pray, 

Join  the  happy  group  before  us, 
Chanting  neath  the  moonlight  ray. 

Glide  on,  my  bark  !  how  sweet  to  rove, 

With  such  a  beaming  sky  above, 

O'er  the  dark  sea,  whose  murmurs  seem, 

Like  fairy  music  in  a  dream; 

No  sound  is  heard  to  break  the  spell, 

Except  the  water's  gentle  swell; 

Whilst  midnight,  like  a  mimic  day, 

Shines  on,  to  guide  our  moon-lit  way. 

SWISS  BOY. 
Come,  arouse  thee,  arouse  thee,  my  brave  Swiss  boy, 
Take  thy  pail  and  to  labor  away !  [Repeat.] 

The  sun  is  up  with  ruddy  beam, 
The  kine  are  thronging  to  the  stream.    ■ 
Come,  arouse  thee,  arouse  thee,  my  brave  Swiss  boy, 
Take  thy  pail,  and  to  labor  away. 

Am  not  I,  am  not  I,  say,  a  merry  Swiss  boy, 
When  I  hie  to  the  mountains  away ! 
For  there  a  shepherd  maiden  dear, 
Awaits  my  song  with  listening  ear. 
Am  not  I,  &c. 

Then  at  night !  then  at  night — Oh  !  a  gay  Swiss  boy, 

I'm  away  to  my  comrades,  away  ! 

The  cup  we  fill — the  wine  is  pass'd, 

In  friendship  round  until  at  last, 

With  good  night!  and  good  night!  goes  the  happy  Swiss  boy, 

To  his  home  and  his  slumbers,  away. 


I 
SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  71 

TWENTY  YEARS  AGO. 

I  HAVE  wandered  by  the  village,  Torn — I've  sat  beneath  the 

tree, 
Upon  the  school-house  playing-ground  which  sheltered  you  and 

me, 
But  none  are  left  to  greet  me,  Tom,  and  few  are  left  to  know, 
That  played  with  us  upon  the  green  just  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
The  grass  is  just  as  green,  dear  Tom,  bare-footed  boys  at  play 
Are  sporting  just  as  we  were  then,  with  spirits  just  as  gay, 
But  master  sleeps  upon  the  hill,  all  coated  o'er  with  snow, 
That  afforded  us  a  sliding-place  just  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
The  old  school-house  is  altered  some,  the  benches  are  replaced 
By  new  ones,  very  like  the  same  our  penknives  had  defaced; 
But  the  same  old  bricks  are  in  the  wall,  the  bell  swings  to  and 

fro, 
The  music  just  the  same,  dear  Tom,  'twas  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
The  boys  are  playing  some  old  game,  beneath  that  same  old  tree, 
I  do  forget  the  name  just  now — you  have  played  the  same  with 

me; 
On  that  same  spot  'twas  played  with  knives,  by  throwing  so  and 

so, 
The  leaders  had  a  task  to  do  there  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
The  river  is  running  just  as  still — the  willows  on  its  side, 
Are  larger  than  they  were,  dear  Tom,  the  stream  appears  less 

wide; 
The  grape-vine  swing  is  ruined  now,  where  once  we  played  the 

beau, 
And  swung  our  sweethearts,  pretty  girls,  just  Twenty  Years 

Ago. 
The  spring  that  bubbled  'neath  the  hill,  close  by  the  spreading 

beach, 
Is  very  high — 'twas  once  so  low  that  we  could  almost  reach ; 
But  in  kneeling  down  to  get  a  drink,  dear  Tom,  I  started  so, 
To  see  how  sadly  I  am  changed  since  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
Down  by  the  spring  upon  an  elm  you  know  I  cut  your  name — 
Your  sweetheart  is  just  beneath  it,  Tom — and  you  did  mine  the 

same, 
Some  heartless  wretch  has  peeled  the  bark — 'twas  dying  sure 

but  slow, 
Just  as  the  one  whose  name  you  cut  did  Twenty  Years  Ago. 


\ 

72  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

My  lids  have  long  been  dry,  dear  Tom,  but  tears  come  in  my 

eyes, 
I  thought  of  her  I  loved  so  well — those  early  broken  ties ; 
I  visited  the  old  church-yard,  and  took  some  flowers  to  strew 
Upon  the  graves  of  those  we  loved  some  Twenty  Years  Ago. 
Some  are  in  the  church-yard  laid,  some  sleep  beneath  the  sea, 
But  few  are  left  of  our  old  class,  excepting  you  and  me; 
But  when  our  time  shall  come,  dear  Tom,  and  we  are  called 

to  go, 
I  hope  they'll  lay  us  where  we  played  just  Twenty  Years  Ago. 

ELLEN  BAYNE. 

Soft  be  thy  slumbers, 

Rude  cares,  depart ! 
Visions,  in  numbers, 

Cheer  thy  young  heart. 
Dream  on,  while  bright  hours 

And  fond  hopes  remain, 
Blooming,  like  smiling  bowers, 

For  thee,  Ellen  Bayne  ! 
Chorus — Gentle  slumbers  o'er  thee  glide, 

Dreams  of  beauty  round  thee  bide, 
While  I  linger  by  thy  side, 
Sweet  Ellen  Bayne  ! 
Dream  not  in  anguish, 

Dream  not  in  fear, 
Love  shall  not  languish — 

Fond  ones  are  near. 
Sleeping  or  waking, 

In  pleasure  or  pain, 
Warm  hearts  will  beat  for  thee, 

Sweet  Ellen  Bayne  ! 
Gentle  slumbers,  &c. 

Scenes  that  have  vanished, 

Smile  on  thee  now. 
Pleasures  once  banished, 

Play  round  thy  brow — 
Forms  long  departed, 

Greet  thee  again, 
Soothing  thy  dreaming  heart, 

Sweet  Ellen  Bayne  ! 
Gentle  slumbers,  &c. 


SONGS   01    SENTIMENT.  73 

"I  DREAMT  THAT  I  DWELT  IN  MARBLE  HALLS." 

From  the  Bohemian  Girl. 

I  dreamt  that  I  dwelt  in  marble-  halls, 

With  vassals  and  serfs  at  ray  side, 
And  of  all  who  assembled  within  those  walls, 

That  I  was  the  hope  and  pride. 
I  had  riches  too  great  to  count — could  boast 

Of  a  high  ancestral  name, 
But  I  also  dreamt,  which  pleased  me  most, 

That  you  loved  me  still  the  same. 

I  dreamt  that  suitors  sought  my  hand, 

That  knights  upon  bended  knee, 
And  with  vows  no  maiden  heart  could  withstand, 

They  pledged  their  faith  to  me. 
And  I  dreamt  that  one  of  that  noble  host, 

Came  forth  my  hand  to  claim, 
But  T  also  dreamt,  which  charm'd  me  most, 

That  you  loved  me  still  the  same. 

JENNY  LIND'S  CELEBRATED  BIRD  SONG. 

Birdling,  why  sing  in  the  forest  wide  ? 

Say,  say  !  Say,  say  ! 
Callest  thou  thy  bridegroom  or  thy  bride  ? 

Oh,  say  !  Oh,  say  ! 
I  call  no  bridegroom  nor  bride, 
Yet  must  I  sing  in  the  forest  wide; 
Nor  know,  nor  know,  know  I, 

Why  thus  I'm  singing  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la. 
Know  not  why  thus  I'm  singing. 

Birdling,  oh  pay,  is  thy  heart  so  blest, 

Oh,  Ray"!  Oh, 
That  song  must  burst  from  thy  joyous  breast? 

Oh,  say!  Oh,  say! 
Oh,  yes  !   my  heart  is  glad  and  light, 
I  know  no  sorrow,  day  or  night  J 
Nor  know,  nor  know,  know  I 

Why  thus  I'm  singing  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  Za,  la,  la,  la. 
Know  not  why  thus  I'm  singing. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

girdling,  what  singest  thou  all  the  day? 

Say  what !  Say  what ! 
And  tell  me  who  listens  to  thy  lay; 

Oh,  tell !  Oh,  tell ! 
I  sing,  I  sing  through  all  day  long, 
Nor  know  I  the  burden  of  niy  song; 
Yet  must,  yet  must,  yet  must 
I  still  be  singing  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la. 
Must  I  still  be  singing. 

OH !  GIVE  ME  FREEDOM  EVER, 

OR  THE   INDEPENDENT   MAID. 
Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 
Oh,  give  me  freedom  ever  ! 


A  chainless  heart  and  hand, 
Slave  of  no  jealous  lover, 

Nor  husband's  stern  command  ; 
To  rove  through  ball  and  bower, 

With  honest  smiles  for  all, 
Prey  to  no  suitor's  power,  I 

And  holding  none  in  thrall. 
Chorus — Oh,  give  me  freedom  ever  ! 

A  chainless  heart  and  hand, 
Slave  of  no  jealous  lover, 

Nor  husband's  stern  command ; 
La,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la, 

La,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la, 
To  laugh  at  Cupid's  archery, 

With  heart  for  ever  free. 

Set  maids  to  catch  a  lover, 

Their  brighest  smiles  put  on, 
Too  soon  they  may  discover, 

Their  prize  and  hopes  are  gone; 
While  wives  half  broken-hearted, 

To  tyrant  husbands  cling, 
Free-footed  and  free-hearted, 

I  laugh  at  care  and  sing. — 
Oh,  give  me  freedom  ever,  &c. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  75 


MY  HELEN  IS  THE  FAIREST  FLOWER. 

My  Helen  is  the  fairest  flower 

That  ever  graced  the  sun  or  shade, 
Or  deck'd  with  charms  the  lover's  bower; 

The  desert  wild,  or  mountain  glade  : 
Her  bosom  fairer  than  the  snow, 

Or  April  showers,  or  May-morn's  breath, 
Than  moonlight  rays,  or  rubies'  glow, 

Than  weeping  lily  clos'd  in  death. 
Yes,  Helen  is,  &c. 

Her  azure  eyes,  when  cast  above, 

Are  brighter  than  yon  starry  sky; 
Her  mellow  voice  in  notes  of  love 

First  rais'd  my  soul  to  bliss  on  high. 
Her  cheeks  they  mock  the  rose's  bloom, 

Her  dear,  dear  lips  the  coral's  hue, 
Her  breath  rich  India's  choice  perfume, 

Her  breast  is  tender,  kind,  and  true. 
Yes,  Helen  is,  &c. 


SONG  OF  THE  SEXTON. 

Oh,  the  sights  that  I  see  as  I  ply  my  lone  trade, 
In  the  mouldering  dust  that  a  cent'ry  hath  made, 

"Where  the  coffin-worm  doth  creep. 
I  began  long  ago,  when  my  life  was  still  green, 
And  my  mattock  and  spade  have  been  active,  I  ween, 

To  fashion  the  grave  so  deep. 
Ho  !  I  laugh  as  I  dig,  for  they  all  seek  my  aid, 
To  provide  them  a  home  with  my  mattock  and  spade. 

The  rich  man  hath  pass'd  me  with  towering  head, 
But  I  sang  o'er  his  grave  when  the  scorner  was  dead, 

And  laugh' d  as  I  shovel'd  the  mould. 
The  hungry  and  wretched  ne'er  enter'd  his  door, 
Mis  heart  never  bled  for  the  wrongs  of  the  poor, 

For  the  proud  man  loved  his  gold. 
Ho !  I  laugh'd  as  I  dug,  for  they  wanted  my  aid, 
To  provide  him  a  home  with  my  mattock  and  spade. 


76  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

I  saw  a  young  man  in  the  fresh  bloom  of  life, 

As  he  came  to  the  church  with  a  trembling  young  wife, 

Lift  against  me  the  finger  of  scorn. 
Oh,  the  revel  was  joyous,  the  dance  lasted  long ; 
But  the  shriek  of  the  widow  soon  banish'd  the  song — 

The  young  man  died  ere  morn  ! 
Ho !  I  laugh' d  as  I  dug,  when  they  came  for  my  aid, 
To  provide  him  a  home  with  my  mattock  and  spade. 

I  saw  a  fair  child  bend  her  beautiful  head, 

And  cull  the  lone  flowers  that  bloom  o'er  the  dead, 

To  form  a  simple  wreath. 
The  crimson  of  hectic  suffused  her  pale  face; 
In  her  eyes  fearful  lustre  I  trembled  to  trace, 

The  herald  of  early  death. 
But  I  pray  that  ere  then,  the  deep  home  I  have  made, 
May  close  over  me,  and  my  mattock  and  spade. 

SHE  WORE  A  WREATH  OF  ROSES. 

She  wore  a  wreath  of  roses  the  night  when  first  we  met, 
Her  lovely  face  was  smiling  beneath  her  curls  of  jet; 
Her  footsteps  had  the  lightness,  her  voice  the  joyous  tone, 
The  tokens  of  a  youthful  heart  where  sorrow  is  unknown ; 
I  saw  her  but  a  moment,  yet  methinks  I  see  her  now, 
With  the  wreath  of  summer  flowers  upon  her  snowy  brow. 

A  wreath  of  orange  flowers  when  next  we  met  she  wore, 
The  expression  of  her  features  was  more  thoughtful  than  be- 
fore, 
And  standing  by  her  side  was  one  who  strove,  and  not  in  vain, 
To  soothe  her  leaving  that  dear  home  she  ne'er  might  view 

again ; 
I  saw  her  but  a  moment,  but  methinks  I  see  her  now, 
AVith  the  wreath  of  orange  blossoms  upon  her  snowy  brow. 

And  once  again  I  see  that  brow,  no  bridal  wreath  is  there, 

The  widow's  sombre  cap  conceals  her  once  luxuriant  hair  ; 

She  weeps  in  silent  solitude,  and  there  is  no  one  near, 

To  press  her  hand  within  his  own,  and  wipe  the  fallen  tear  ! 

I  see  her  broken-hearted,  and  methinks  I  see  her  now, 

In  the  pride  of  youth  and  beauty,  with  a  wreath  upon  her  brow, 


BONGS    01   SENTIMENT.  77 

THE  BONNY  BOAT. 

On,  swiftly  glides  the  bonny  boat, 

Just  parted  from  the  shore, 
And  to  the  fishers'  chorus  note, 

Soft  moves  the  dipping  oar; 
Their  toils  are  borne  with  happy  cheer, 

And  ever  may  they  speed, 
That  feeble  age,  and  helpmate  dear, 

And  tender  bairnies  feed. 

We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay, 

O.ur  nets  are  floating  wide, 
Our  bonny  boat  with  yielding  sway 

Rocks  lightly  on  the  tide ; 
And  happy  prove  its  daily  lot 

Upon  the  summer  sea, 
And  blest  on  land  our  kindly  cot, 

Where  all  our  treasures  be. 

We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  &c. 

The  mermaid  on  her  rock  may  sing, 

The  witch  may  weave  her  charm, 
But  water  sprite  nor  eldrich  thing 

The  bonny  boat  can  harm; 
It  safely  bears  its  scaly  store 

Through  many  a  stormy  gale, 
While  joyful  shouts  rise  from  the  shore, 

Its  homeward  prow  to  hail. 

We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  &c. 

AWAY !  AWAY,  TO  THE  MOUNTAIN'S  BROW. 

Away  !  away,  to  the  mountain's  brow, 

Where  the  trees  are  gently  waving, 
Away  !  away,  to  the  mountain's  brow, 

Where  the  stream  is  gently  laving. 
And  beauty,  my  love,  on  thy  cheek  shall  dwell, 

Like  the  rose  as  it  Dpes  to  the  day, 
While  the  zephyr  that  breathes  thro'  the  flow'ry  dell 

Shakes  the  sparkling  dew-drops  away. 

Away  !  away,  to  the  mountain's  brow,  &c. 


78  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

Away  !  away,  to  the  rocky  glen, 

Where  the  deer  are  wildly  bounding, 
And  the  hills  shall  echo  in  gladness  again 

To  the  hunter's  bugle  sounding; 
.While  beauty,  my  love,  on  thy  cheek  shall  dwell, 

Like  the  rose  as  it  opes  to  the  day, 
While  the  zephyr  that  breathes  thro'  the  flow'ry  dell, 

Shakes  the  sparkling  dew-drops  away. 
Away  !  away,  to  the  rocky  glen,  &c. 

THE  GOLDEN  GIRL. 

Lucy  is  a  golden  girl, 

But  a  man,  a  man  should  woo  her; 
They  who  seek  her,  shrink  aback, 

When  they  should,  like  storms,  pursue  her: 
All  her  smiles  are  hid  in  light, 

All  her  hair  is  lost  in  splendor, 
But  she  hath  the  eyes  of  night, 

And  a  heart  that's  over  tender. 
Oh  !  Lucy  is,  &c. 

Yet  the  foolish  suitors  fly, 

(Is't  excess  of  dread  or  duty  ?) 
From  the  starlight  of  her  eye, 

Leaving  to  neglect  her  beauty  : 
Men  by  fifty  seasons  taught, 

Leave  her  to  a  young  beginner, 
Who  without  a  second  thought 

Whispers,  woos,  and  straight  must  win  her. 
Oh  !  Lucy  is,  &c. 

THE  RAPTURE  DWELLING. 

The  rapture  dwelling  within  my  breast, 

And  fondly  telling  its  fears  to  rest; 
The  rapture  dwelling  within  my  breast, 

And  fondly  telling  its  fears  to  rest; 
Comes  o'er  me  weaving  its  charmed  chain, 
No  vestige  leaving  of  sorrow's  strain, 
No  vestige  leaving  of  sorrow's  strain, 
Of  sorrow's,  sorrow's  strain. 


SONGS  OF  SENTIMENT.  79 


MINSTREL'S  RETURN  FROM  THE  WAR. 

The  minstrel's  return'd  from  the  war, 

With  spirits  as  buoyant  as  air, 
And  thus  on  his  tuneful  guitar, 

He  sung  in  the  bower  of  his  fair: 
u  The  noise  of  the  battle  is  over, 

The  bugle  no  more  calls  to  arms; 
A  soldier  no  more — but  a  lover, 

I  bend  to  the  power  of  thy  charms. 
Sweet  lady,  fair  lady,  I'm  thine, 
I  bend  to  the  magic  of  beauty, 
Tho'  the  banner  and  helmet  are  mine 
Yet  love  calls  the  soldier  to  duty." 

The  minstrel  his  suit  warmly  press'd, 

She  blush'd,  sigh'd,  and  hung  down  her  head, 
Till  conquer'd  she  fell  on  his  breast, 

And  thus  to  the  happy  youth  said  : 
"  The  bugle  shall  part  us  love,  never, 

My  bosom  thy  pillow  shall  be, 
Till  death  tears  thee  from  me,  for  ever. 

Still  faithful,  Til  perish  with  thee/' 
Sweet  lady,  &c. 

But  fame  call'd  the  youth  to  the  field ; 

His  banner  wav'd  high  o'er  his  head, 
He  gave  his  guitar  for  a  shield, 

And  soon  he  lay  low  with  the  dead, 
While  she,  o'er  her  young  hero  bending, 

Received  his  expiring  adieu  : 
"I  die  whilst  my  country  defending, 

But  I  die  to  my  lady  love  true." 

"  Oh,  death  !  (then  she  cried)  I  am  thine, 
I  tear  off  the  roses  of  beauty ; 

The  grave  of  my  hero  is  mine, 

For  he  died  true  to  love  and  to  duty  I" 


30 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


"MY    COT   BESIDE   THE   SEA/ 


A     cot  that  stood  be-slde  the  sea      W as  once  my  childhood's  home  ;  But  I    had  seen  tall 


:^_-r^— ^: 


^5pigpiE^l^pi^§^ 


ships    goby,  And  long'd  with  them  to  roam;  I     had  my  wish,  and  far  and  wide    I 

.  rail.  & 

N         .[assB: 


traversed  o'er     the  world,    And     saw  with  pride  in    distant  lands,  My    na  -"tiveflagun- 
z7^  A  tempo. 


SSS 


SI 


3S£Eg^* 


furl'd  ;  Yet   absance  gave  my  early  home    A  thou  sand  charms  to  me,  And  more  than  pa-la- 


I  prized      My  cot      be  -  side  the      sea My     cot    be  -  side  the   sea. 


Though  kind  hearts  beat  in  many  lands, 

Though  gentle  looks  were  dear; 
My  longing  hopes  of  home  gave  birth 

To  many  a  fervent  prayer. 
And  when  I  laid  me  down  to  rest, 

The  sweet  desire  of  day, 
Gave  place  to  bright  and  happy  dreams 

Of  dear  ones  far  away.     . 
I  woke,  and  fondly  thought  their  dreams, 

Perchance,  had  been  of  me  : 
Thus  day  and  night  I  longed  to  greet 

My  cot  beside  the  sea. 

I  hailed  at  length  the  happy  land, 

I  pressed  my  native  shore, 
I  felt  my  heart  grow  young  again, 

What  could  I  ask  for  more  ? 
But  phantom-like,  my  visions  fled, 

The  friends  I  love  are  gone, 
A  stranger  in  my  childhood's  home, 

I  stand  unloved,  unknown  ; 
Yet  while  one  link  in  mem'ry's  chain, 

Unbroken  there  shall  be — 
'Twill  bind  me  to  that  once  loved  home, 

My  cot  beside  the  sea. 


SONUS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


81 


«OH!    WOULD   I   WERE   A   130 Y   AGAIN." 


Words  by  Mure  I 


*s= 


Music  by  F.  Rosier. 

-4— >-  *l 


Oh!  would  I    were     a    boy    a  -  g;iin, When  life  se.mi'd  form'd  of  sunny  years,  And  all    the 
4r-J 


Y V  _ V_  f^—-^! ^—T-. 


heart  t'.ieu  knew  of  pain,  W;i<s  wept  a  -  way    in  I  ,  "Was  wept  a  -  way    in   transient 


^^^^iSli^H^i^^ 


«;     -*- 


tears, When  ev'ry  tale  hope  whisp?r'i  then  My  fancy  deera'd  wis  only  truth:  Oh  !  would  that 


I  could  know  a  -  gain  The  hap-py  virions     of  my  youth.  Oh!  would  I  were  a    boy  a- 


L^jy,  Jj^^ji^-j^i 


gain, When  life  seera'd  form'd  of  sunny  \-.>ars,When  life  seem'd  form'd  of  "ffiu  -  ny   years 

On  !  would  I  were  a  boy  again, 

When  life  seemed  formed  of  sunny  y'ears, 
And  all  the  heart  then  knew  of  pain, 

Was  wept  away  in  transient  tears. 
When  every  tale  hope  whispered  then 

My  fancy  deemed  was  only  truth  : 
Oh  !  would  that  [  could  know  again 

The  happy  visions  of  my  youth. 
Oh!  would  I  were  a  hoy  again, 

When  life  seemed  formed  of  sunny  years 

'Tia  vain  to  mourn  that  years  have  shown 

How  false  these  fairy  visions  were, 
Or  murmur  that  mine  eyes  have  known 

The  hurt  lien  of  ;i  fleeting  tear. 
But  still  the  heart,  will  fondly  cling 

To  hopes  no  longer  prized  as  truth  $ 
And  mein'ry  still  delight's  to  bring 

The  happy  visions  of  my  youth. 
Oh  !  would  I  were  a  boy  again, 

When  life  seemed  formed  of  sunny  years. 


82  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

OH,  DON'T  MINGLE  ONE  HUMAN  FEELING. 

Oh,  don't  mingle  one  human  feeling, 
With  these  blisses  o'er- each  sense  stealing, 
While  these  tributes  to  me  revealing, 

Elvino  faithful  to  his  love. 
Ah  !  embrace  me  ;  while  thus  forgiving, 
Each  a  pardon  thus  receiving, 
On  the  earth  while  we  are  living, 

We  will  to  a  heaven  of  love. 

Come  then,  away,  lead  to  the  temple ; 
None  have  pass'd  a  doom  severer, 
Let  our  greeting  loudly  cheer  her, 
Since  her  trials  make  her  dearer, 

To  our  hearts  and  to  our  love. 

DO  I  NOT  PROVE  THEE. 

The  celebrated  parting  Duett  in  Norma. 
Norma.  Do  I  not  prove  thee, 

How  I  must  love  thee  ? 
Thus  with  thee  sharing  a  doom  of  terror, 

Yes !  hoping  brightly, 

Still  beating  lightly 
My  heart  might  feel  not  regret  or  fear  ! 

But  false  love  swayed  thee, 

And  hath  betrayed  thee, 
And,  haughty  Roman,  quail  for  thy  error  I 

For  in  this  hour 

Shall  flames  devour 
Thee  !  faithless  being  still  held  most  dear. 
Claudian.  Oh,  dread  reflection  ! 

Thy  true  affection 
Too  late  convinceth  my  frenzied  reason; 

Truth  flashing  o'er  me, 

Unveils  before  me 
The  ghastly  vision  of  shameful  death ! 

I  own  I  left  thee, 

Of  peace  bereft  thee, 
Thy  love  repaying  with  heartless  treason  : 

Then  doom  me  only, 

I'll  perish  lonely, 
And  bless  thee,  e'en  with  my  latest  breath ! 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  88 

MY  BOAT  IS  ON  THE  SHORE. 

My  boat  is  on  the  shore, 

And  my  bark  is  on  the  sea; 
But  ^fore  I  go,  Tom  Moore, 

Here's  a  double  health  to  thee. 

Here's  a  sigh  for  those  that  love, 
And  a  smile  for  those  who  hate, 

And  whatever  sky's  above, 
Here's  a  heart  for  ev'ry  fate. 

Though  the  ocean  roars  around  me, 

Yet  it  still  shall  bear  me  on, 
Though  a  desert  should  surround  me, 

It  hath  springs  that  may  be  won. 

Were't  the  last  drop  in  the  well, 

As  I  gasp  upon  the  brink, 
Ere  my  sinking  spirits  fell, 

'Tis  to  thee  that  I  would  drink. 

In  this  water  as  this  wine, 

The  libations  I  would  pour, 
Should  be  peace  to  thee  and  thine, 

And  a  health  to  thee,  Tom  Moore. 

I'D  CHOOSE  TO  BE  A  DAISY. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  publishers,  547  Broadway,  N.  T. 

I'd  choose  to  be  a  daisy, 
If  I  might  be  a  flower, 
My  petals  closing  softly, 

At  twilight's  quiet  hour. 
Anil  waking  in  the  morning, 
When  fills  the  early  dew, 
To  welcome  heaven's  bright  sunshine, 
And  heaven's  bright  tear-drops  too. 
Chorus. —  I'd  choose,  to  be  a  daisy, 
If  I  might  be  a  flower, 
My  petals  closing  softly, 
At  twilight's  quiet  hour. 


84  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

I  love  the  gentle  lily, 

It  looks  so  meek  aDd  fair, 
Bnt  daisies  I  love  better. 

For  they  grow  everywhere. 
The  lilies  bloom  so  sadly, 

In  the  sunshine  or  in  shower, 
But  daisies  still  look  upward, 

However  dark  the  hour. 

I'd  choose  to  be  a  daisy,  &c. 

HOME  AGAIN. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Ditson  &  Co.,  227  Washington  street,  Boston. 

Home  again,  home  again, 

From  a  foreign  shore  : 
And  oh  !  it  fills  my  soul  with  joy, 

To  meet  my  friends  once  more. 
Here  I  dropped  the  parting  tear, 

To  cross  the  ocean's  foam : 
But  now  I'm  once  ngaiu  with  those, 

Who  kindly  greet  me  home. 
Home  agaiu,  &c. 

Happy  hearts,  happy  hearts, 

With  mine  have  laughed  in  glee, 
But  oh  !  the  friends  I  loved  in  youth, 

Seem  happier  to  me. 
And  if  my  guide  should  be  the  fate, 

Which  bids  me  longer  roam, 
But  death  alone  can  break  the  tie, 

That  binds  my  heart  to  home. 
Home  again,  &c. 

Music  sweet,  music  soft, 

Lingers  round  the  place — 
And  oh!  I  feel  the  childhood  charm, 

That  time  cannot  efface. 
Then  give  me  but  my  homestead  roof, 

I'll  ask  no  palace  dome — 
For  I  can  live  a  happy  life, 

With  those  I  love  at  home. 
Home  asrain,  &c. 


60NGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  85 

LOVE'S  APPROACH. 

If  Love  should  dare  to  creep, 
Our  hedge  of  roses  through, 

Disturbing  hearts  asleep, 
With  airy  fancies  new, 
What  shall  we  do? 

We  will  not  show  amaze, 

Nor  like  the  vanquished  sigh, 

But  on  the  intruder  gaze 
With  mild  and  steady  eye, 
And  bid  him  try. 

Then  if  before  our  feet, 

Rare  treasure  he  display, 
Pure  gold  and  garlands  sweet 

And  robes  of  rich  array, 
What  shall  we  say  ? 

Since  these  gifts  are  true, 

Thou  canst  not  mean  us  wrong, 
And  we,  if  well  thou  woo, 
May  give  thee  song  for  song, 
Some  day  ere  long,  &c. 

Wm.  Vincent  Wallace. 

MAY  MORNING. 

Duett. 
"  Come  away  from  the  harp !  come  away  from  the  book," 

Says  a  voice  in  the  cottage  eaves ; 
"  Your  music  to  learn  from  the  valley-brook, 

And  to  read  from  the  greenwood  leaves. " 

There's  never  a  cloud  in  the  blue  to-day, 

To  threaten  of  winds  or  showers ; 
Or  to  ruffle  the  crown  we  will  weave  for  May, 

While  playing  among  the  flowers. 

The  spring  is  awake  with  her  sun-bright  eyes, 

And  her  garlands  so  fresh  and  gay; 
From  the  green  hill-top  like  a  bird  she  cries, 

"The  winter  hath  fled  aw. v." 


86  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

She  gives  a  new' tune  to  the  harper's  rhyme, 

And  a  hope  to  the  sick  man's  hours; 
Come  away,  come  away  !  'tis  the  one  blest  time 

For  playing  among  the  flowers. 

Wm.  Vincent  "Wallace. 


ADIEU;  OR,  AH!  MOURN  HER  NOT. 

Duett, 

Mourn  not  our  captive  free, 

Our  bird  departed ; 
Too  bright  for  earth  was  she, 

Too  tender-hearted. 
Rut  come  through  meadows  lone, 

When  day  is  dying, 
The  grave  to  look  upon 

Where  she  is  tying. 

Ah !  mourn  her  not. 

One  by  one  dropp'd  away, 

Friend,  parent,  lover; 
Why  should  the  reft  one  stay 

When  joy  was  over, 
With  her  poor  heart  distressed, 

New  visions  trying? 
Oh  !  better  far  the  rest, 

Where  she  is  lying. 

Ah  !  mourn  her  not. 

Down  the  hill  waters  glide, 

Seaward  before  her, 
Sunbeams  at  eventide, 

Smile  gently  o'er  her. 
Soft  leaves  the  turf  bestrew, 

Warm  winds  are  sighing, 
The  clouds  weep  their  purest  dew, 

Where  she  is  lying. 

Ah !  mourn  her  not. 

Wm.  Vincent  Wallace, 


flONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  87 

I  HAVE  SOMETHING   SWEET   TO  TELL  YOU, 

OR  I'M  TALKING  IN  MY  SLEEP. 

I  have  something  sweet  to  tell  you,  but  the  secret  you  must 

keep, 
And  remember,  if  it  isn't  right,  "  I'm  talking  in  my  sleep;" 
For  I  know  I  am  but  dreaming, 

"When  I  think  your  love  is  mine*, 
And  I  know  they  are  but  seeming, 
All  the  hopes  that  round  me  shine. 
I  have  something  sweet  to  tell  you,  but  the  secret  you  must 

keep, 
And  remember,  if  it  isn't  right,  "  I'm  talking  in  my  sleep." 

So  remember  when  I  tell  you  what  I  cannot  longer  keep,        ' 
We  are  none  of  us  responsible  for  what  we  say  in  sleep  : 
My  pretty  secret's  coming  ! 

Oh,  listen  with  your  heart, 
And  you  shall  hear  it  humming, 
Be  close  !  'twill  make  you  start. 
I  have  something  sweet  to  tell  you,  but  the  secret  you  must 

keep, 
And  remember,  if  it  isn't  right,  "I'm  talking  in  my  sleep." 
Oh,  shut  your  eyes  so  earnest,  or  mine  will  wildly  weep, 
I  love  you  !  I  adore  you  !  but  "  I'm  talking  in  my  sleep  :" 
For  I  know  I  am  but  dreaming, 

When  I  think  your  love  is  mine ; 
And  I  know  they  are  but  seeming, 
All  the  hopes  that  round  me  shine. 
I  have  something  sweet  to  tell  you,  but  the  secret  you  must 

keep, 
And  remember,  if  it  isn't  right,  "I'm  talking  in  my  sleep." 

THE  BEATING  OF  MY  OWN  HEART. 

He  came  not,  no,  he  came  not ! 

The  moon  came  out  alone; 
The  little  stars  sat,  one  by  one, 

Each  on  its  golden  throne. 
The  evening  wind  passed  by  my  cheek, 

The  leaves  above  were  stirred, 
But  the  beating  of  my  own  heart 

Wa?  all  the  sound  I  heard. 


J 


88  60NGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

Fast  silent  tears  were  falling, 

When  something  stood  behind, 
A  hand  was  on  my  shoulder, 

I  knew  the  touch  was  kind ; 
It  drew  me  nearer,  nearer, 

We  could  not  speak  a  word, 
And  the  beating  of  our  own  hearts 

Was  all  the  sound  we  heard. 


SILVER  MOON. 

As  I  strayed  from  my  cot  at  the  close  of  the  day, 

About  the  beginning  of  June, 
'Neath  a  jessamine  shade  I  espied  a  fair  maid, 

And  she  sadly  complained  to  the  moon. 
Boll  on  silver  moon,  guide  the  traveler's  way, 

When  the  nightingale's  song  is  in  tune, 
But  never,  never  more,  with  my  lover  I'll  stray, 

By  thy  sweet  silver  light,  bonny  moon. 
Boll  on,  &c. 

As  the  hart  on  the  mountain  my  lover  was  brave, 

So  handsome,  so  manly  and  clever; 
So  kind  and  sincere,  and  he  loved  me  so  dear, 

Oh  !  Edwin,  thy  equal  was  never. 
But  now  he  is  dead,  and  gone  to  death's  bed, 

He's  cut  down  like  a  rose  in  full  bloom ; 
He's  fallen  asleep,  and  poor  Jane's  left  to  weep,- 

By  the  sweet  silver  light  of  the  moon. 
Boll  on,  &c. 

But  his  grave  I'll  seek  out  until  morning  appears, 

And  weep  for  my  lover  so  brave, 
I'll  embrace  the  cold  turf,  and  wash  with  my  tears, 

The  flowers  that  bloom  o'er  his  grave ; 
But  never  again  shall  my  bosom  know  joy, 

With  my  Edwin  I  hope  to  be  soon ; 
Lovers  shall  weep  o'er  the  grave  where  we  sleep, 

By  thy  sweet  silver  light,  bonny  moon. 
Boll  on,  &e. 


SONGS   OP    SENTIMENT. 

ACROSS  THE  MOUNTAINS,  HO ! 

"When  the  tempests  fly  o'er  the  cloudy  sky, 

And  the  piping  blast  sings  merrily; 
Oh,  sweet  the  mirth  of  the  social  hearth, 
Where  the  flames  are  blazing  cheerily. 
Our  way  across  the  mountains,  ho  ! 
Ho!  ho!  ho!  ho!  ho!  ho! 
Our  wav  across  the  mountains,  ho  ! 
Ho!  ho!  ho!  ho!  ho!  ho! 
The  moon-beam  bright,  of  a  summer's  night, 

Shineth  but  sad,  and  wearily ; 
But  sweet  is  the  glow  where  contentment  flows, 

And  the  bright  fire  blazes  cheerily. 
Oh,  when  the  tempests  fly  o'er  the  cloudy  sky, 

And  the  piping  blast  sings  merrily; 
Oh,  sweet  is  the  mirth  of  the  social  hearth, 
"Where  the  flames  are  blazing  cheerily. 
Our  way  across  the  mountains,  ho  !  &c. 
Let  the  storm  without  in  their  midnight  rout, 

Howl  through  the  casement  drearily ; 
We're  merry  within  round  the  blazing  linn, 
Where  contentment  flows  right  cheerily. 
Our  way  across  the  mountains,  ho !  &c. 

AM  I  NOT  FONDLY  THINE  OWN  ? 

Thou,  thou,  reign'st  in  this  bosom, 

Here,  here,  hast  thou  thy  throne ; 
Thou,  thou,  know'st  that  I  love  thee, 

Am  I  not  fondly  thine  own? 
Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  am  I  not  fondly  thine  own  ? 
Then,  then,  e'en  as  I  love  thee, 

Say,  say,  wilt  thou  love  me  ? 
Thoughts,  thoughts,  tender  and  true,  love, 

Say  wilt  thou  cherish  for  me  ? 
Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  say  wilt  thou  cherish  for  me  ? 
Speak,  speak,  love,  I  implore  thee, 

Say,  say,  hope  shall  be  mine, 
Thou,  thou,  know'st  that  I  love  thee, 

Say  but  that  thou  wilt  be  mine  ? 
Yes,  yes.  j  pay  but  that  thou  wilt  be  mine, 


J 


90  SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 

THE  PRAIRIE  LEA. 

Oh  t  the  prairie  lea  is  the  home  for  me, 

For  there  I'm  lord  of  all  I  see ; 
The  chase,  the  chase,  o'er  the  boundless  space, 

And  the  grassy  course  for  me. 
I  fly  unseen  o'er  fields  of  green, 

Where  the  hoof-crush'd  blossoms  scent  the  air, 
And  the  pheasant  springs  on  startled  wings, 

From  her  wild  and  lonely  lair. 
Oh,  the  prairie  lea,  &c. 

The  trumpet's  sound,  the  war  steed's  bound, 

The  fluttering  banner's  starry  field, 
The  cannon's  roar,  the  spouting  gore, 

To  some  a  stormy  joy  may  yield ; 
But  oh  !  give  me  the  prairie  lea, 

Its  peaceful  scenes  are  dear  to  me, 
The  hunter's  cry,  the  cloudless  sky, 

Oh  !  these  are"  joys  for  me  ! 
Oh,  the  prairie  lea,  &c. 

The  wolf  leaps  out  at  the  merry  shout, 

The  fox  steals  through  the  dewy  mead, 
And  moor-cocks  cry,  as  off  they  fly 

From  the  deer  and  panting  steed. 
And  oh  !  at  night  what  wild  delight, 

As  home  we  fly  with  careless  tread, 
No  fence  to  leap,  no  path  to  keep, 

On  the  way  to  our  grassy  bed. 
Oh,  the  prairie  lea,  &c. 

WHEN  WAKES  THE  SUN. 

When  wakes  the  sun  at  early  dawn, 

Then  from  his  distant  cottage  home, 
I  list  to  hear  my  lover's  horn, 

Which  seems  to  say,  I  come  ! 
And  as,  from  Alp  to  Alp,  the  sound, 

By  echo  wafted,  steals  to  cheer ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  each  rebound, 

I  bless  and  joy  to  hear. 

When  wakes  the  sun,  &c. 
lyo  !  lyo ! 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  91 

When  suu     '.  tints  our  glaciers  bright, 

With  r  •  y  hues,  then  forth  I  rove, 
And  "whisper  in  the  waning  light, 

The  name  of  names  I  love. 
And  still,  as  to  the  vales  around, 

Farther  and  farther,  less  and  less, 
Echo  to  echo,  wafts  the  sound, 

Then  echo's  aid  I  bless. 
When  wakes  the  sun,  &c. 


SLUMBER'S  GOLDEN  CHAIN. 

From  the  Opera  of  Norma. 

When  bound  in  slumber's  golden  chain, 
This  dream  stole  gently  o'er  me; 

Methought  that  in  a  nuptial  fane, 
Elberta  stood  before  me. 

As  bridal  songs  then  rose  above 

Our  wedded  faith  was  plighted, 
How  swelled  my  heart  delighted 

With  grateful  transport  and  with  love  ! 

But  soon  was  hush'd  the  strain  of  mirth, 
Each  eye  in  terror  gleaming, 

While  rose  a  phantom  from  the  earth, 
In  form  a  priestess  seeming. 

Fast  flashed  the  lightning  gory  red, 
Bolt  echoed  bolt  of  thunder, 
Cleaving  the  fane  asunder, 

All  striking  mute  with  dread. 

No  more  my  lovely  bride  was  nigh. 

Sepulchral  gloom  prevailing 
Borne  from  afar  her  suppliant  cry, 

With  infants'  feeble  wailing. 
Then  burst  a  sound  more  dread  than  all 

My  inmost  soul  appalling; 

'Twas  Norma  sternly  calling, 
Thus,  heartless  traitor,  fall  ! 


92  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

ANNOT  LYLE. 

The  snow  white  plume  her  bonnet  bore 

Wav'd  not  more  pure  and  fair; 
Her  sparkling  eye,  a  floating  gem — 

Like  gold,  her  auburn  hair. 
The  rose  bud  slumbering  on  its  bed, 

Ne'er  wak'd  a  sweeter  smile, 
But  now  she's  gone  !  and  lost  to  me, 

My  lovely  Annot  Lyle  ! 
Thy  fairy  form  I  oft  have  seen ; 

On  every  passing  breeze 
Have  heard  the  melody  of  song, 

But  ah  !  no  strains  like  these, 
The  thrilling  tones  that  from  thy  harp 

The  feelings  oft  beguile ; 
But  now  thou'rt  gone,  and  lost  to  me, 

My  lovely  Annot  Lyle  ! 
Although  thy  heart's  another's  now, 

And  beats  no  more  for  me, 
Yet  I  will  teach  my  soul  to  pray, 

That  it  may  pray  for  thee. 
This  bursting  heart  alone  can  feel 

The  absence  of  thy  smile  \ 
Since  thou  art  gone  and  lost  to  me, 

My  lovely  Annot  Lyle  ! 

NO !  NO ! 

The  celebrated  duett,  arranged  to  the  tune  of  "  Isabel." 
He. — Will  you  not  bless,  with  one  sentence,  a  lover, 

Whose  bosom  beats  only  for  you ; 
The  cause  of  your  anger,  I  prythee  discover 

Pray  tell  me  the  reason  for  ? 
She.  No ! 

Me. — Say,  dearest,  you  still  love  me  ? 
She.  No ! 

He. — Oh,  how  can  you  doom  me  to  sorrow, 

Yet  once  again  bless  me  with 

She.  No ! 

He. — And  promise  to  meet  me  to-morrow 

Premise — 


SONGS    OF   SENTIMENT.  95 

She.  No ! 

He.— Prythee— 
She.  No ! 

He. — Don't  say,  no  ! 

He. — Must  we,  then,  dearest  Maria,  sever, 

And  can  you  then  part  with  me  ? 
She.  No ! 

He. — Then  swear  by  yon  sun,  to  be  mine  only  ever 

You  cannot  refuse  me,  love ! 
SJie.  No! 

He. — You  hate  not  your  fond  lover  ? 
She.  No ! 

He — Your  hand  to  my  faithful  heart  pressing 

Say,  does  it  offend  you,  love  ? 
She.  No| 

He. — Then,  to  marry  will  not  be  distressing, 

Answer? 
She.  No ! 

He. — Once  more. 
She.  No  !  no  !  no  !  no  I 

COME,  LISTEN  TO  MY  SONG. 

Come  listen  to  my  song,  my  love, 

'Twill  not  offend  thine  ear, 
The  moon  is  beaming  bright  above 

Thou  hast  no  cause  of  fear. 
I'll  sing  of  lovers  brave  and  true, 

If  thou  wilt  list  to  me, 
I'll  sing  the  charms  of  ladie3  fair, 

But  none  so  fair  as  thee. 
Then  listen,  &c. 

I'll  sing  of  beauty,  love,  and  fame; 

Of  love  in  distant  climes; 
I'll  sing  of  eyes  so  blue  and  bright, 

But  none  so  bright  as  thine. 
Then  listen  to  my  song,  my  love, 

For  thou  art  dear  to  me, 
And  while  there  beams  a  light  above, 
I'll  sing  of  love  and  thee. 
Then  listen,  &c. 


94  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

STAR  OF  THE  EVENING; 

OR  BEAUTIFUL  STAR. 

Beautiful  star  in  heaven  so  bright, 
Softly  falls  thy  silver  light, 

As  thou  inovest  from  earth  afar, 
Star  of  the  evening — beautiful  star. 
Beautiful  star — beautiful  star. 

In  fancy's  ear  thou  seem'st  to  say, 
■s  Follow  me — come  from  earth  away, 

Upward  thy  spirit's  pinions  try, 
To  realms  of  love  beyond  the  sky. 
Beautiful  star — beautiful  star. 

Shine  on,  0  star  of  love  divine, 

And  may  our  souls  around  thee  twine> 

As  thou  movest  from  earth  afar, 
Star  of  the  twilight — beautiful  star. 
Beautiful  star — beautiful  star. 


THE  INDIAN  GIBL, 

OR  BRIGHT  ALFARATA. 

Wild  roved  an  Indian  girl, 

Bright  Alfa  rata, 
Where  sweep  the  waters 

Of  the  blue  Juniata. 
Swift  as  an  antelope, 

Through  the  forest  going, 
Loose  were  her  jetty  locks, 

In  wavy  tresses  flowing. 

Gay  was  the  mountain  song, 

Of  bright  Alfarata, 
Where  sweep  the  waters 

Of  the  blue  Juniata. 
Strong  and  true  my  arrows  are, 

In  my  painted  quiver, 
Swift  goes  my  light  canoe 

Down  the  rapid  river. 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT.  95 

Bold  is  the  warrior  good, 
The  love  of  Alfarata, 

Proud  waves  his  snowy  plume, 

Along  the  Juniata. 
Soft  and  low  he  speaks  to  me, 

And  then  his  war  cry  sounding, 
Rings  his  voice  in  thunder  loud, 

From  height  to  height  resounding. 

Thus  sang  the  Indian  girl, 

Bright  Alfarata, 
Where  sweep  the  waters 

Of  the  blue  Juniata. 
Fleeting  years  have  borne  away 

The  voice  of  Alfarata, 
Still  rolls  the  river  on, 

Blue  Juniata. 

HAPPY  BIRDLING  OF  THE  FOREST. 

AS    SUNG   BY    MISS    CATHERINE    HAYES. 

Happy  birdling  of  the  forest, 
Ever  singing  as  thou  soarcst, 
Who  hath  taught  thee,  little  minion, 
Bird  upon  thy  golden  pinion, 
Thus  to  warble  wild  and  high, 
Half  to  earth  and  half  to  sky — half  to  sky? 
Tra,  la,  la,  la,  la — tra,  la,  la — tra,  la,  la ! 

Happy  birdling,  free  from  sorrow, 
Never  dreaming  of  the  morrow, 
Hast  thou  ever  notes  of  sadness, 
Or  dost  always  sing  for  gladness  ? 
Tell  me,  birdling,  is  thy  strain, 
But  a  gladsome  life-refrain  ? 
Tell  me,  birdling,  is  thy  strain, 
But  a  gleesoine  life-refrain  ? 

Tra,  la,  la,  la,  la — tra,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la! 

Happy  birdling.  goyly  fleeting, 
Evermore  thy  song  repeating, 
I  would  learn  thy  le.<son  surely, 
Could  I  only  learta  it  purely — 


96  SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 

LILLY  DALE. 

;T"WAS  a  calm,  clear  night,  and  the  moon's  pale  light 

Shone  soft  o'er  hill  and  vale, 
"When  sad-hearted  friends  stood  around  the  death-bed 

Of  my  poor,  sweet  Lilly  Dale  ! 
Chorus— Oh,  Lilly!  sweet  Lilly!   dear  Lilly  Dale! 
Now  the  wild  roses  wave  o'er  her  little  green  grave 

'Neath  the  trees  in  the  blooming  vale  ! 

Like  a  fair  flower  white,  on  that  sad,  still  night, 

Swept  by  some  icy  gale, 
On  her  couch  of  snow,  in  her  beauty  bright, 

Lay  n^  dear,  sweet  Lilly  Dale  ! 

Oh,  Lilly  !  sweet  Lilly  [dear  Lilly  Dale  !  &c. 

"  I  go,"  and  she  smiled,  as  we  wept  o'er  the  child, 
"  To  that  sinless,  happy  vale, 

Where  a  kind  hand  shall  wipe  all  the  pain  from  the  brow 
Of  your  poor,  dear  Lilly  Dale  I" 
Oh,  Lilly  !  pale  Lilly  !  sweet  Lilly  Dale  !  &c. 

The  moon  went  down  'neath  the  forest  brown, 

And  the  stars  grew  dim  and  pale, 
And  the  death  smile  wreathed  the  white,  cold  lips 

Of  my  poor,  lost  Lilly  Dale ! 

Oh,  Lilly  !  sweet  Lilly  !  dear  Lilly 'Dale  !  &c. 

Where  the  flowers  bloom  o'er  her  lonely  tomb, 

'Neath  the  trees  of  the  leafy  vale ; 
Sweetly  sleepeth  in  peace,  while  the  bright  birds  sing, 

My  loved,  my  dear  Lilly  Dale ! 

Oh,  Lilly  !  pale  Lilly  !  lost  Lilly  Dale  !  &c. 

INDIAN  WARRIOR'S  GRAVE. 

Green  is  the  grave  by  the  wild  dashing  river, 
Where  sleeps  the  brave  with  his  arrows  and  quiver; 
Where  in  his  pride  he  roved  in  his  childhood, 
Fought  he,  and  died,  in  the  depths  of  the  wildwood 

In  the  lone  dell,  while  his  wigwam  defending, 
Nobly  he  fell  'neath  the  hazel  boughs  bending, 
Where  the  pale  foe  and  he  struggled  together, 
Who  from  his  bow  tore  his  swift-arrowed  feather. 


BOVGfl    01    -SENTIMENT.  9'' 

Ere  the  next  moon  the  bold  warrior  was  buried; 
And  ere  a  moon  his  tribe  westward  had  hurried. 
But  a  rude  cross,  with  its  rough-chiselled  numbers, 
Half  hid  in  moss,  tells  the  red  warrior  slumbers. 

INDIAN  HUNTER. 

Oh,  why  does  the  white  man  follow  my  path,  like  the  hound 

on  the  tiger's  track  ! 
Does  the  flush  oi'  my  dark  cheek  waken  his  wrath  ?  does  he 

covet  the  bow  at  my  back  ? 
He  has  rivers  and  seas,  where  the  billows  and  breeze 
Bear  riches  for  him  alone — and  the  sons  of  the  wood 
Never  plunge  in  the  flood,  which  the  white  man  calls  his  own. 

Yha,  yha ! 

Then  why  should  he  come  to  the  streams,  where  none  but  the 

red  skin  dare  to  swim  ? 
Why,  why  should  he  wrong  the  hunter  ?  one  who  never  did 

harm  to  him  ! 

Yha,  yha,  yha ! 

The  Father  above  thought  fit  to  give  to  the  white  man  corn 

and  wine — 
There  are  golden  fields  where  he  may  live,  but  the  forest 

shades  are  mine. 
The  eagle  hath  its  place  of  rest,  the  wild  horse  where  to  dwell, 
And  the  Spirit  that  gave  the  bird  its  nest,  made  me  a  home 

as  well. 

Yha,  yha ! 
Then  back !  go  back !  from  the  red  man's  track,  for  the  red 

man's  eyes  are  dim, 
To  find  that  the  white  man  wrongs  the  one  who  never  did 

harm  to  him. 

Yha,  yha,  yha! 

LIFE  LET  US  CHERISH. 

Life  let  us  cherish 

While  yet  the  taper  glows, 
And  the  fresh  flow'ret, 

Pluck  ere  it  close. 

Why  are  we  fond  of  toil  and  care 
Why  choose  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 


98  SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT. 

And  heedless  by  the  lily  stray, 
Which  blossoms  in  our  way  ? 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 
When  clouds  obscure  the  atmosphere, 
And  forked  lightnings  rend  the  air, 
The  sun  resumes  his  silver  crest, 
And  smiles  adorn  the  west. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 
The  genial  seasons  soon  are  o'er, 
Then  let  us,  ere  we  quit  this  shore, 
Contentment  seek,  it  is  life's  rest, 
The  sunshine  of  the  breast. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c.        / 
Away  with  every  toil  and  care, 
And  cease  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 
With  manful  heart  life's  conflicts  meet, 
Till  death  sounds  the  retreat. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 


LOVE'S  RITORNELL^ 

A  Duett.     From  the  Bri^efiC  V 

He. — Gentle  Zitella,  whither  away  ?  ^ 

Love's  ritornella,  list  while  I  play. 
She. — No,  I  have  lingered^  too  long  on  my  road, 
Night  is  advancing,  the  brigand's  abroad  ! 
Lonely  Zitella  has  too  much  to  fear ; 
Love's  ritornella  she  may  not  hear. 
He. — Charming  Zitella,  why  shouldst  thou  care, 
Night  is  not  darker  than  thy  raven  hair  ! 
And  those  bright  eyes,  if  the  brigand  should  see, 
Thou  art  the  robber,  the  captive  is  he  ! 
GJ-entle  Zitella,  banish  thy  fear, 
Love's  ritornella,  tarry  and  hear. 

She. — Simple  Zitella,  beware,  ah  beware  ! 

List  ye  no  ditty,  grant  ye  no  prayer. 
He. — To  your  light  footsteps  let  terror  add  wings  I 
'Tis  Massaroni  himself  who  now  sings  ! 
Gentle  Zitella,  banish  thy  fear  ! 
Love's  ritornella,  tarry  and  hear  ! 


f 


/ 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  t 

DEATH  OF  OSCEOLA, 

THE  VICTIM  OF  THE  WniTE  FLAG. 
As  sung  by  the  Treniont  Vocalists.      Music  by  B.  Baker. 

Oh  I  bring  me  the  dying  raven, 

That  I  may  send  his  plume, 
To  tell  my  hunted  nation, 

Their  fallen  chieftain's  doom. 
The  panther  of  the  pale  face 

Hath  lured  me  to  his  lair, 
And  the  heart  his  fangs  could  never  grasp 

Is  breaking  in  his  snare. 
CJwrus — Oh  !  bring  me  the  dying  raven,  &c. 

I  led  my  braves  to  battle, 

Against  the  white  man's  power, 
He  heard  my  arrows  rattle 

In  conflict's  gory  hour ; 
He  came  with  words  of  thunder, 

I  made  his  sons  a  grave, 
He  came  with  words  of  falsehood,* 

And  now  I  am  his  slave. 
Oh  !  bring  me  the  dying  raven,  &c. 

Farewell  Emasa's,  Flori*k's  bowers, 

And  happy  hunting  grounds, 
Your  woods  and  golden  flowers, 

Reek  with  the  white  man's  hounds. 
Shades  of  my  braves  and  sires, 

I  seek  your  peaceful  shore, 
"Where  white  men's  chains  nor  fires, 

Can  never  reach  me  more. 
Oh  !  bring  me  the  dying  raven, 

That  I  may  send  his  plume,  &c. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 


*  The  commanding  officer  of  the  Americans  in  tbe  Florida  War,  sent  a 
White  Flay  to  Osceola,  requesting  an  interview,  and  on  his  attendance  he 
was  instantly  made  prisoner. 


X 


100 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 


"TAKE   ME   HOME   TO   DIE." 

Music  by  I.  B.  Woodbuky. 


Thi3    land    is    ve  -  ry  bright,   mother,   The    flowers     are  Te  -  ry    fair,    There's 


jggE^^jfpa 


ma-gio      in     the     orange  groves,  And  fragrance  in  the    air ;    But  take    me  to    my 


dear  old  home, where  the  brook  goes  babbling  by,    Let    ns      go  back  a-gain,  mother,  Oh  I 


3s 


bs*£S 


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take    me     home  to    die. 

This  land  is  very  bright,  mother, 

The  flowers  are  very  fair, 
There's  magic  in  the  orange  groves, 

And  fragrance  in  the  air  ; 
But  take  me  to  my  dear  old  home, 

Where  the  brook  goes  babbling  by ; 
Let  us  go  back  again,  mother, 

Oh  !  take  me  home  to  die. 

Let  my  father's  hand  but  rest,  mother, 

In  blessing  on  my  head, 
Let  my  brothers  and  my  sister  dear, 

But  throng  around  my  bed ; 
Oh  !  let  me  feel  that  loved  ones  near 

Receive  my  parting  breath, 
When  I  bid  you  all  good-night,  mother, 

And  sleep  the  sleep  of  death. 

These  flowers  their  sweetest  sweets  afford, 

I  scent  their  fragrant  breath, 
But  ere  they  bloom  again,  mother, 

I  shall  be  cold  in  death. 
Then  take  me  to  my  early  home, 

No  roses  are  so  dear 
As  those  that  bloom  upon  the  bush, 

To  your  old  room  so  near. 


SONGS   OF   SENTIMENT.  101 

It  will  be  blooming  soon,  mother, 

Then  come,  oh,  let  me  go ! 
Give  me  once  more  its  roses, 

Before  you  lay  me  low  : 
You'll  lay  them  on  my  grave,  mother, 

Say,  mother  !  will  you  not  ? 
You'll  lay  me  by  the  mossy  bank, — 

I've  told  you  oft  the  spot. 
'Tis  close  beside  the  church,  mother, 

And  when  you  kneel  to  pray, 
I'll  listen  to  your  words,  mother, 

Though  I  am  far  away. 
You  must  not  weep  for  me,  mother, 

For  I  shall  happy  be, 
And  though  I  cannot  stay  with  you, 

Yet  you  shall  come  to  me. 
Dear  mother,  I  am  weeping, 

I  cannot  stop  the  tears, 
They're  swelling  at  the  thought  of  home, 

And  of  my  early  years. 
But  I  am  getting  faint,  mother, 

Oh  !  take  me  to  your  breast, 
And  let  me  feel  your  lip,  mother, 

But  on  my  forehead  press. 

There's  dimness  on  my  sight,  mother — 

I  cannot  get  my  breath  : 
Is  it  your  sobs  I  hear,  mother  ? 

Oh  !  tell  me,  is  this  death  ? 
You'll  tell  my  father  how  I  yearned 

Once  more  to  see  him  near : 
You'll  kiss  my  brothers  each  for  me, 

They  will  forget,  I  fear. 

You'll  tell  my  sisters — brothers  dear, 

I  have  gone  up  on  high; 
And  if  they  are  good  children  here, 

They'll  see  me  when  they  die. 
I  feel  I'm  going  now,  mother, 

One  kiss  ere  life  is  riven, 
Farewell  my  own  dear  mother, 

Until  we  meet  in  heaven. 


102 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


"THEY  ASK  ME   IF  I  EVER  WEEP." 

Music  by  Eugexe  Thiodox. 


Words  by  Mrs.  P.  E.  Abel 
Andantino  con  Expressione 


rff-r-n. 


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Tbey  ask    me    if  I  ever  weep,         Or  aught  of   sor  -  row  know ; 


And 


Wy'k1'  ^•^~*Lt]y/  i gj;^  J_— ] : 


iffrfc* 


S=@ 


if  this  heart  can  pity  feel, 


For  others  fraught  with  wo  ? 


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gEgE 


I  -l     I  ap 


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They  deem  me  always  bright  and  gay,  And  think  I'd  pass  unheeding  by, 


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SSgsSi 


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jm-ui 


«=»: 


SONGS    OF    SENTIMENT. 


107 


KISSING  THROUGH   THE   BARS. 

Words  by  Gen.  W.  K.  Small.  Joseph  Wood,  Jr. 


'Tvc.i<;  in     a    grove    I     met  my      love,      One    soft    and   balmy  night,      I  own'd  my 


flame,  she  did  the  same,  And  trembled  with  delight ;  When  at  her  gate  we  parted    late 


blessed  my  lucky     stars,  And  stole  a 


to  seal  our     bliss      Be- neath  the  wicket  bars. 


I  went  again,  but  sought  in  vain 

The  grove  my  love  to  find; 
I  feared  the  worst,  and  yet  I  durst 

Not  think  she  was  unkind. 
To  solve  my  fate  I  sought  the  gate, 

And  there,  oh  !   happy  stars, 
I  found  and  pressed  her  to  my  breast, 

And  kissed  her  through  the  bars. 

I  asked  her  why  she  did  not  fly, 

Like  me,  on  wings  of  love, 
To  where  our  vows  beneath  the  boughs, 

Were  whispered  through  the  grove. 
She  said,  of  late  the  garden  gate, 

Seemed  nearer  to  the  stars; 
The  hint  was  plain,  and  so  again 

I  kissed  her  through  the  bars. 


But  kissing  leads  to  graver  deeds, 

And  constant  visions  brings, 
Of  golden  showers  and  orange  flowers, 

White  gloves  and  wedding  rings. 
And  now  our  fate  no  envious  gate, 

With  wicked  wicket  mars, 
For  wedded  fast,  we've  learned  at  last, 

To  kiss  without  the  bars. 


108 


SONGS   OP   SENTIMENT. 


"JEANIE   WITH   THE   LIGHT   BROWN  HAIR." 


Stephen  C.  Fosteb. 


I  dream  of  Jeanie  with  the  light  brown  hair,  Borne  like  a  vapor    on  the  summer  air,     I 


see  her  tripping  where  the  bright  streams  play ,  Happy  as  the  daisies  that  dance  on  her  way . 


-hnrt 


K^-MZa 


£=&£$&>! 


Many  were  the  wild  notes  her  merry  voice  would  pour, 

Many  were  the  blithe  birds  that  warbled  them  o'er,  I 

-I* — N- 


j__^ L^ ^ * L_ 


to: 


dream  of  Jeanie  with  tho light  brown  hair,  Floating  like  a  va-por  on  the  soft    summer  air. 

I  dream  of  Jeanie  with  the  light  brown  hair, 

Borne  like  a  vapor  on  the  summer  air, 

I  see  her  tripping  where  the  bright  streams  play, 

Happy  as  the  daisies  that  dance  on  her  way. 

Many  were  the  wild  notes  her  merry  voice  would  pour, 

Many  were  the  blithe  birds,  that  warbled  them  o'er ; 

I  dream  of  Jeanie  with  the  light  brown  hair, 

Floating  like  a  vapor  on  the  soft  summer  air. 

I  long  for  Jeanie  with  the  day  dawn  smile, 
Radiant  in  gladness,  warm  with  winning  guile: 
I  heard  her  melodies,  like  joys  gone  by, 
Sighing  round  my  heart  o'er  the  fond  hopes  that  die, 
Sighing  like  the  night  wind  and  sobbing  like  the  rain, 
Wailing  for  the  lost  one  that  comes  not  again  : 
Oh  !  I  long  for  Jeanie,  and  my  heart  bows  low, 
Never  more  to  find  her  where  the  bright  waters  flow. 

I  sigh  for  Jeanie,  but  her  light  form  strayed 
Far  from  the  fond  hearts  round  her  native  glade; 
Her  smiles  have  vanished,  and  her  sweet  songs  flown, 
Flitting  like  the  dreams  that  have  cheered  us  and  gone; 
Now  the  nodding  wild  flowers  may  wither  on  the  shore, 
While  her  gentle  fingers  will  cull  them  no  more ; 
Oh !  I  sigh  for  Jeanie  with  the  light  brown  hair, 
Floating  like  a  vapor  on  the  soft  summer  air. 


SONGS  OF  THE  SOLDIER. 


THE  CAVALIER'S  BATTLE  CALL. 

"To  sympathize  with  the  sentiments  and  appreciate  the  real  excellence 
of  this  song,  we  must  identify  ourselves  in  fancy  with  the  soul  of  the  old 
cavalier. — Edgar  A.  Poe. 

Come  mount,  come  mount,  brave  gallants  all, 

And  don  your  helms  amain  ; 
Death's  courtiers,  Fame  and  Honor,  call 

Us  to  the  field  again. 
No  shrewish  tears  shall  fill  our  eye, 

When  the  sword  hilt's  in  our  hand, 
Heart  whole  we'll  part  and  no  whit  sigh, 

For  the  fairest  in  the  land. 
Let  piping  swain  and  craven  wight, 

Thus  weep  and  puling  cry, 
Our  business  is  like  men  to  fight, 

And  hero  like  to  die. 

Then  mount — then  mount,  &c.  &c. 

William  Motherwell. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  TEAR. 

Upon  the  hill  he  turned  to  take  a  last  fond  look, 

Of  the  valley  and  the  village  church,  and  the  cottage  by  the 

brook ; 
He  listened  to  the  sound  so  familiar  to  his  ear, 
And  the  soldier  leant  upon  his  sword  and  wiped  away  a  tear. 

(109) 


110  SONGS    OF   THE    SOLDIER. 

Beside  that  cottage  porch  a  girl  was  on  her  knees, 

She  held  aloft  a  snowy  scarf  which  flutter'd  in  the  breeze ; 

She    breath'd   a    prayer   for   him,    a   prayer   he    could    not 

hear, 
But  he  paused  to  bless  her  as  she  knelt,  and  wiped  away  a 

tear. 

He  turn'd  and  left  the  spot ;  oh  !  do  not  deem  him  weak, 
For  dauntless  was  the  soldier's  heart,  though  tears  were  on 

his  cheek; 
Go  watch  the  foremost  ranks  in  danger's  dark  career, 
Be  sure  the  hand  most  daring  there  has  wiped  away  a  tear. 


MARCH  TO  THE  BATTLE  FIELD. 

Tune. —  O/t  in  the  stilly  night. 

March  to  the  battle  field, 

The  foe  is  now  before  us; 
Each  heart  is  freedom's  shield, 
And  heav'n  is  smiling  o'er  us. 
The  woes  and  pains, 
The  galling  chains, 
That  kept  our  spirits  under, 
In  proud  disdain, 
We've  brok'n  again, 
And  tore  each  link  asunder. 

March  to  the,  &c. 

Who,  for  his  country  brave, 

Would  fiy  from  her  invader  ? 
Who,  his  base  life  tq  save, 
Would,  traitor-like,  degrade  her? 
Our  hallow'd  cause, 
Our  home  and  laws, 
'Gainst  tyrant  power  sustaining, 
We'll  gain  a  crown 
Of  bright  renown, 
Or  die — our  rights  maintaining! 

March  to  the,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    THE    SOLDIER.  Ill 


WHEN  THE  TRUMP  OF  FAME. 

FROM  THE  OPERA  OF  THE  MAID  OF  JUDAH. 
Sung  by  Mr.  Wood. 

When  the  trump  of  fame, 

Loud  sounding  freedom's  call, 
Bids  in  freedom's  name, 

To  fight  or  bravely  fall — 
Bold  the  hero  goes, 

Where  maddening  war  shouts  rise, 
And,  midst  countless  foes, 

He  flies,  he  flies. 

Bright  the  sword  now  gleams, 

And  banners  wave  on  high  — 
Round  the  life-blood  streams, 

'Mid  cries  of  "  Yield,  or  die  I" 
'Till  victory  uprears 

Her  pennon,  red  with  gore, 
And  shouts,  to  patriot  ears, 

That  slavery  reigns  no  more. 

When  the  voice  of  love 

To  rescue  calls  the  brave, 
Who  so  base  would  prove, 

He  would  not  fly  to  save  ? 
Love,  whose  torch  in  hall 

And  bower  doth  brightly  flame, 
Champions  finds  in  all 

Who  manhood  claim. 

Then  shame  befall  the  knight, 

Who,  false  to  honor's  laws, 
Shuns  the  listed  fight, 

In  injured  woman's  cause. 
May  he  from  the  foe, 

In  battle  recreant  fly, 
And  by  some  traitor  blow, 

Uupitied,  fall  and  die! 


112  SONGS    OF   THE    SOLDIER. 

THE  SOLDIER'S  LAST  SIGH. 

The  trumpet  may  summon  thy  soldier  away, 

And  spur  his  proud  spirit  to  arms, 
Yet  warm  with  the  vigor  that  bids  him  away, 
He  grieves  to  abandon  thy  charms. 

Though  glory  invite  him  and  splendor  abound, 

Yet  mark,  dearest  maid,  his  decree, 
Subdued  by  defeat,  or  by  victory  crown'd, 
The  soldier's  last  sigh  is  for  thee. 

But  hark  !  'tis  the  trumpet  now  speaks  his  adieu, 

And  calls  him  from  love  to  renown, 
Then,  oh  !  dearest  maiden,  believe  his  heart  true, 

Though  fortune  may  smile  or. may  frown. 
Though  glory  invite  him,  &c. 

THE  SOLDIER'S  LAST  BUGLE. 

Tune. — "  The  sailor's  last  whistle." 

Haak  !  the  muffled  drum  sounds  the  last  march  of  the  brave, 

The  soldier  retreats  to  his  quarters,  the  grave, 

Under  death,  whom  he  owns  his  Commander-in-chief, 

No  more  he'll  turn  out  with  the  ready  relief. 

But  in  spite  of  death's  terror's  or  hostile  alarms, 

When  he  hears  the  last  bugle, 

When  he  hears  the  last  bugle,  he'll  stand  to  his  arms. 

Farewell,  brother  soldiers,  in  peace  may  ye  rest, 

And  light  lie  the  turf  on  each  veteran  breast, 

Until  that  review  when  the  souls  of  the  brave, 

Shall  behold  the  chief  Ensign,  fair  mercy's  flag  wave ; 

Then,  freed  from  death's  terrors  and  hostile  alarms, 

When  we  hear  the  last  bugle, 

Yv7hen  we  hear  the  last  bugle,  we'll  stand  to  our  arms. 

THE  CELEBRATED  BATTLE  SONG. 

From  the  Opera  of  Norma. 

Battle  !  battle  !  ye  heroes  now  calling, 
Rush  like  waves  of  the  wild  roaring  flood ; 

Fierce  as  wolves  on  the  sheep-fold  when  falling, 
Glut  your  deep  hate  in  Rome's  dearest  blood. 


SONGS    OF    THE    SOLDIER.  113 

Slaughter  !  slaughter  !  the  cry  loud  and  daring, 
Speeds  all  onward  vindictive,  unsparing  : 
Cleave  your  foes  down,  when  ruthless  ye  sally, 
Afl  the  scythe  mows  the  green  waving  valley  ! 

Then  will  Rome's  easrle  stricken  and  gory, 

Wave  no  longer  his  pinions  afar, 
While  the  God  who  exults  in  our  glory, 

Rides  triumphant  his  storm  bearing  car 


THE  SOLDIER'S  DREAM. 

Our  bugles  san<*  truce— for  the  night-cloud  had  lowered, 
And  the  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky ; 

And  thousands  had  sunk  on  the  ground  overpowered, 
The  weary  to  sleep,  and  the  wounded  to  die. 

When  reposing  that  night  on  my  pallet  of  straw, 
By  the  wolf-scaring  fagot  that  guarded  the  slain  ; 

At  the  dead  of  the  night  a  sweet  vision  I  saw, 
And  thrice  ere  the  morning  I  dreamt  it  again. 

Methought  from  the  battle-field's  dreadful  array, 
Far,  far  I  had  roamed  on  a  desolate  track; 

'Twas  autumn — and  sunshine  arose  on  the  way 

To  the  home  of  my  fathers,  that  welcomed  me  back. 

I  flew  to  the  pleasant  fields  traversed  so  oft 

In  life's  morning  march,  when  my  bosom  was  young; 

I  heard  my  own  mountain-goats  bleating  aloft, 

And  knew  the  sweet  strain  that  the  corn-reapers  sung. 

Then  pledged  we  the  wine-cup,  and  fondly  I  swore 

From  my  home  and  my  weeping  friends  never  to  part; 

My  little  ones  kissed  me  a  thousand  times  o'er, 

And  my  wife  sobbed  aloud  in  her  fullness  of  heart. 

Stay,  stay  with  us — rest,  thou  art  weary  and  worn ; 

And  fain  was  their  war  broken  soldier  to  stay; 
But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 

And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away. 

Thomas  Campbell. 

8 


114  SONGS   OF   THE   SOLDIER. 

NOT  A  DRUM  WAS  HEARD, 

OR  THE  BURIAL  OF   SIR  JOHN  MOORE. 

Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 

As  his  corpse  to  the  ramparts  we  hurried; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot, 

O'er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we  buried. 
We  buried  him  darkly  at  dead  of  night, 

The  turf  with  our  bayonets  turning, 
By  the  struggling  moonbeam's  misty  light, 

And  our  lanterns  dimly  burning. 

No  useless  coffin  confined  his  breast, 

Nor  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud  we  wound  him; 
But  he  lay  like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest, 

With  his  martial  cloak  around  him. 
Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 

And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow, 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead, 

And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 

We  thought  as  we  heaped  his  narrow  bed, 

And  smooth'd  down  his  lonely  pillow, 
That  the  foe  and  the  stranger  would  tread  o'er  his  head, 

And  we  far  away  on  the  billow. 
Lightly  they'll  talk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone, 

And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him ; 
But  nothing  he'll  reck  if  they  let  him  sleep  on, 

In  the  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him. 

But  half  our  heavy  task  was  done, 

When  the  clock  told  the  hour  for  retiring, 
And  we  heard  by  the  distant  and  random  gun, 

That  the  foe  was  suddenly  firing. 
Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame,  fresh  and  gory, 
We  carv'd  not  a  line,  we  rais'd  not  a  stone, 

But  we  left  him  alone  in  his  glory. 


SONGS   OP   THE   SOLDIER.  115 


JEANNETTE  AND  JEANNOT. 

You  are  going  far  away,  far  away  from  your  Jcannette : 
There  is  no  one  left  to  love  me  now,  and  you  too  may  forget; 
But  my  heart  will  still  be  with  you,  wherever  you  may  go, 
Can  you  look  me  in  the  face,  and  say  the  same,  Jeannot? 
When  you  wear  the  jacket  red,  and  the  beautiful  cockade, 
I  fear  that  you  will  then  forget  the  promises  you've  made ; 
With  your  gun  upon  your  shoulder,  and  your  bayonet  by  your 

side, 
You'll  be  taking  some  proud  lady,  and  making  her  your  bride. 

When  glory  leads  the  way,  you'll  be  madly  rushing  on, 
Never  thinking,  if  they  kill  you,  my  happiness  is  gone : 
Should  you  win  the  day,  perhaps  a  general  you'll  be, 
Though  I  should  be  proud  to  hear  it,  what  would  become  of 

me  ? 
Oh  !  was  I  Queen  of  France,  or,  what's  better,  Pope  of  Rome, 
I'd  have  no  fighting  men  abroad,  no  weeping  maids  at  home ; 
All  the  world  should  be  at  peace,  and  should  kings  assert  their 

right, 
I'd  have  those  that  make  the  quarrel,  be  the  only  men  who 

fight. 


0  LET  ME  LIKE  A  SOLDIER  FALL. 

Oh  !  let  me  like  a  soldier  fall 

Upon  some  open  plain, 
This  breast  expanding  to  the  ball, 

To  blot  out  ev'ry  stain. 
Brave,  manly  hearts  confer  my  doom, 

That  gentle  ones  may  tell, 
Howe'er  forgot  or  known  my  tomb, 

I  like  a  soldier  fell. 

I  only  ask  of  that  proud  race, 
Which  lends  its  blaze  to  me, 

To  die  the  last,  and  not  disgrace 
Its  ancient  chivalry. 


116  SONGS   OF   THE   SOLDIEft. 

The/  o'er  my  clay  no  banner  wave, 

Nor  trumpet  requiem  swell, 
Enough  they  murmur  at  my  grave; 

He  like  a  soldier  fell. 
Enough  they  murmur  at  my  grave, 

He  like  a  soldier  fell, 

He  like  a  soldier  fell. 

From  Maritana. 

THE  SONG  MY  MOTHER  LOVED  TO  SING. 

Music  published  by  Lee  &  Walker,  732  Chestnut  St.,  Philadelphia. 

The  song  my  mother  loved  to  sing 

Can  ne'er  forgotten  be, 
But  ever  round  my  heart  'twill  cling 

Like  heaven's  melody. 
'Twas  first  to  thrill  my  infant  breast,  ^ 

;Twas  first,  'twas  first  to  charm  my  ear, 
And  from  her  home  among  the  blest, 

I  think  I  still  can  hear 
The  song  my  mother  loved  to  sing, 

In  angel's  accents  mild  j 
And  breathing  in  its  hallowed  tones, 
A  blessing  on  her  child. 

Chorus. — The  song  my  mother  loved  to  sing, 
In  angel's  accents  mild, 
And  breathing  in  its  hallowed  tones, 
A  blessing  on  her  child. 

It  lulled  my  infant  brow  to  sleep, 

It  gave  me  dreams  of  bliss, 
And  visions  rendered  heavenly 

By  fond  affection's  kiss. 
So  oft  I've  heard  its  thrilling  air 

With  words,  with  words  to  mem'ry  dear, 
But  next  to  childhood's  evening  prayer, 

Oh  !  ever  let  me  hear 
The  song  my  mother  loved  to  sing, 

In  angel's  accents  mild, 
And  breathing  in  its  hallowed  tones, 


A  blessing  on  her  child. 


S.  S.  Steele. 


SONGS   OF  THE  FARM 


THE  OLD  FARM-HOUSE. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Oh  !  the  old  farm-house,  down  beside  the  valley  stream, 

Where  in  childhood  so  oft  I  have  played, 
Ere  sorrow  had  clouded  my  heart's  early  dream, 

Or  life's  purest  joys  had  decayed  ; 
How  well  I  remember  the  vine-covered  roof, 

And  the  rose  bushes  clustering  nigh, 
And  the  tall,  stately  poplar  trees  standing  aloof, 

Whose  tops  seemed  to  reach  to  the  sky  ! 

Oh  !  the  old  farm-house,  my  childhood's  happy  home. 


Oh  !   the  old  farm-house,  how  I've  sported  round  its  hearth, 

With  my  sisters  and  brothers  so  dear ; 
How  oft  has  it  rung  with  our  innocent  mirth, 

And  hallowed  our  soft  evening  prayer ! 
But  the  old  farm-house  now  is  bowing  to  decay. 

Its  stones,  like  dead  friends,  lie  apart ; 
But  its  dear  cherished  image  shall  ne'er  fade  away, 

From  affection's  domain  in  my  heart. 

Oh  !  the  old  farm-house,  my  childhood's  happy  home. 

117 


118  SONGS    OF   THE   FARM. 

LONG  LIFE  AND  SUCCESS  TO  THE  FARMER. 

Tune — Tea  in  the  Arbor,  or  "  Over  the  Water  to   Charlie." 

Come  each  jovial  fellow,  that  loves  to  be  mellow, 

Attend  unto  me  and  sit  easy. 
We'll  rest  from  our  labors,  like  friends  and  good  neighbors, 

All  toiling  will  make  a  man  crazy ; 
Here  each  is  a  king,  let  us  laugh,  joke,  and  sing, 

Let  no  one  appear  as  a  stranger, 
But  show  me  the  ass,  that  hates  a  cup  or  a  lass, 

And  I'll  order  him  hay  in  a  manger. 
Chorus — But  show  me  the  ass,  &c. 

By  reaping,  by  sowing,  by  ploughing  and  mowing, 

Dame  nature  supplies  me  with  plenty, 
I've  cellar  well  stored  and  a  plentiful  board, 

And  my  cupboard  affords  every  dainty ; 
I've  all  things  in  season — partake  them  with  reason, 

I'm  here  as  a  Justice  of  quorum  ; 
At  my  cabin's  far  end,  I've  a  bed  for  a  friend, 

A  warm  fireside  and  some  jorum. 
At  my  cabin's  far  end,  &c. 

Let  the  proud  and  the  great,  feast  in  splendor  and  state 

I  envy  them  not,  I  declare  it, 
I  eat  my  own  lamb,  my  own  egg|j  fowl,  and  ham, 

I  shear  my  own  fleece  and  I  wear  it; 
I've  woods,  and  I've  bowers,  I've  fields,  and  I've  flowers, 

The  lark  is  my  daily  alarmer. 
Then  my  jolly  friends  now,  here  is  God  speed  the  plough, 

Long  life  and  success  to  the  Farmer. 
Chorus — 

Then  my  jolly  friends  now,  here's  God  speed  the  plough, 

Long  life,  &c. 

THE  LITTLE  BLACKSMITH. 

We  heard  his  hammer  all  day  long 

On  the  anvil  ring,  and  ring, 
But  he  always  came  when  the  sun  went  down, 

To  sit  on  the  gate  and  sing ; 


SONGS   OF   THE    FARM.  119 

His  little  hands  so  hard  and  brown 

Cross'd  idly  ou  his  knee, 
And  straw-hat  lopping  over  cheeks 

As  red  as  they  could  be. 
Chorus — The  hammer's  stroke  on  the  anVil,  filled 
His  heart  with  a  happy  ring, 
And  that  was  why,  when  the  sun  went  down, 
He  came  to  the  gate  to  sing. 
His  blue  and  faded  jacket,  trimm'd 

With  signs  of  work,  his  feet 
All  bare  and  fair  upon  the  grass, 

He  made  a  picture  sweet. 
For  still  his  shoes,  with  iron  shod, 

On  the  smithy  wall  he  hung, 
As  forth  he  came,  when  the  sun  went  down, 

And  sat  on  the  gate  and  sung. 
The  hammer's  stroke  on  the  anvil,  filled,  &c. 
The  whistling  rustic  tending  cows, 

Would  keep  in  pastures  near, 
And  half  the  busy  villagers 

Lean  from  their  doors  to  hear. 
And  from  the  time  the  robin  came 

And  made  the  hedges  bright, 
Until  the  stubble  yellow  grew, 

He  never  missed  a  night. 
The  hammer's  stroke  on  the  anvil,  filled,  &c. 

THE  OLD  OAKEN  BUCKET. 

Tune — Jessie  the  Flower  of  Dumblane. 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 

When  fond  recollection  recalls  them  to  view, 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep  tangled  wildwood, 

And  ev'ry  loved  spot  that  my  infancy  knew. 
The  wide-spreading  pond,  and  thd  mill  standing  by  it, 

The  bridge  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell, 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy-house  nigh  it, 
And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well. 
The  old  oaken  bucket, 
The  moss  covered  bucket, 
The  iron-bound  bu 
That  hnng  in  the  well. 


120  SONGS   OF  THE   FARM. 

That  moss  covered  vessel  I  hail  as  a  treasure, 

For  oft  when  at  noon  I  return'd  from  the  field, 
I  have  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 

The  purest,  and  sweetest,  that  nature  could  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it  with  hands  that  were  glowing, 

And  quick  to  the  white-pebbled  bottom  it  fell, 
Then  soon  with  the  emblem  of  Tri'th  overflowing, 

And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  the  well. 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  &c. 

How  sweet  from  the  green  mossy  brim  to  receive  it, 

As  poised  on  the  cord  it  inclin'd  to  my  lips, 
Not  a  full  blushing  goblet  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it, 

Tho'  fill'd  with  the  nectar  that  Jupiter  sips. 
But  now  far  removed  from  that  loved  situation 

A  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 
As  my  fancy  revisits  my  father's  plantation, 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  that  hangs  in  the  well. 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  &c. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  FARMER. 

Music  with  Piano  accompaniment,  published  by  Winner  &  Shuster,  Phila. 

I  have  cattle  that  feed  in  the  valley, 

And  herds  that  graze  on  the  hill, 
And  I  pride  in  the  fruits  of  my  labor, 

For  I'm  lord  of  the  land  that  I  till. 
I  have  ploughed  the  rough  hill  and  the  meadow, 

'Till  feeble  with  age  and  with  toil, 
And  I  know  before  long  that  another 

Shall  reap  the  new  fruits  of  the  soil. 

For  the  son  who  hath  toiled  for  me  ever, 

And  faithfully  stood  by  my  side, 
Hath  a  hand  that  shall  gather  the  harvest, 

When  his  feeble  old  father  hath  died. 
And  the  daughter,  so  kind  to  her  mother, 

Shall  share  with  him  all  I  possess, 
For  I  feel  they  love  me  as  a  father, 

And  welcome  my  tender  caress. 


SONGS    OF   THE    FARM.  121 

There's  my  faithful,  my  trusting  companion, 

My  kind-hearted,  dear,  loving  wife, 
I  have  toiled  for  her  comfort  with  pleasure, 

For  such  was  the  pride  of  of  my  life. 
And  still  in  my  manhood  I  love  her, 

For  her  kind  and  affectionate  care, 
And  all  that  the  earth  can  afford  me, 

With  her  I  most  willingly  share. 

GOD  BLESS  THE  FARMER'S  TOIL. 

As  sung  at  Harvest  Home  celebrations,  Agricultural  Fair  Festivals,  &c 

God  bless  the  farmer's  toil. 
God  crown  his  cultured  soil, 

With  bounteous  hand, 
Send  him  a  fruitful  field, 
Crops  that  abundance  yield, 
From  blight  or  flood,  oh  !  shield 

His  flocks  and  land. 

Constant  as  earth  rolls  round, 
He  nobly  tills  the  ground, 

From  sun  to  sun. 
Long  be  his  brow  caress'd, 
Long  may  his  couch  be  bless'd, 
With  calm  and  peaceful  rest, 

When  labor's  done. 

Free  from  the  world's  turmoil, 
He  by  his  manly  toil, 

Strews  ev'ry  board. 
Still  as  the  seasons  come, 
May  heaven's  smiling  dome, 
Crown  his  brow,  hearth,  and  home, 

With  blest  reward. 

God  bless  the  farmer's  toil, 
God  crown  his  cultured  soil, 

With  bounteous  hand, 
Send  him  the  fruitful  field, 
Crops  that  abundance  yield, 
From  blight  or  flood,  oh  !  shield 

His  flocks  and  land. 


122 


SONGS    OF    THE    FARM. 


"THE   REAPER  ON   THE   PLAIN." 

Words  by  C.  G.  Eastman.  Music  by  G.  F.  Root. 


Bending  o'er  his  sic-  kle  'Midthe  yellow  grain,  Lo  !  the  sturdy  reaper,  Reaping  on  the  plain 


Singing  as  the  sickle,  Gathers   to  his    hand,  Rustling  in  its  ripeness,  The  glo  -  ry  of  his  land, 
p  e  legato. 


Mark  the  grain  before  him,  Swaying  in  the  wind,  And  thee-  vengav  -el,    Following    be-hind, 
cres. 


Bound  in  armf  ull  bundles,  standing  one  by  one,  The  yester'  morning's  labor  Ripens  in  the  sun. 


Long  I've  stood  and  pondered, 

Gazing  from  the  hill, 
While  the  sturdy  reaper 

Sung  and  labored  still : 
Rending  o'er  his  sickle 

'Mid  the  yellow  grain, 
Happy  and  contented 

Reaping  on  the  plain. 
And  as  upon  my  journey 

I  leave  the  maple  tree, 
Thinking  of  the  difference 

Between  the  man  and  me, 
I  turn  again  to  see  him 

Reaping  on  the  plain, 
And  almost  wish  my  labor 

Were  the  sickle  and  the  grain. 


SWEET  THE  HOUR.— a  chorus. 

Sweet  the  hour  when  freed  from  labor 
Lads  and  lasses  thus  convene ; 

To  the  merry  pipe  and  tabor, 
Dancing  gaily  on  the  green. 

Sweet  the  hour,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    THE    FARM.  123 

Nymphs  with  all  their  native  graces, 

Swains  with  every  charm  to  win; 
Sprightly  steps  aud  smiling  faces, 

Tell  of  happy  hearts  within. 

Sweet  the  hour,  &c. 

Blest  with  plenty,  here  the  farmer, 

Toils  for  those  he  loves  alone ; 
While  some  pretty  smiling  charmer, 

Like  the  land,  is  all  his  own. 

Sweet  the  hour,  &c. 

Though  a  tear  for  prospects  blighted, 

May  at  times  unbidden  flow, 
Yet  the  heart  will  bound  delighted, 

Where  such  kindred  bosoms  glow. 

Sweet  the  hour,  &c. 


THE  FARM  MAID  AND  THE  FOP. 

A  Popular  Character  Song. 

A  spruce  city  beau  at  set  of  sun, 
Return'd  from  sport  with  game  and  gun, 
O'ertook  a  blushing  country  maid, 
And  to  deride  her  thus  he  essay'd. 

'Where  are  you  going  my  pretty  maid?"      [Repeat."] 
'I'm  going  a  milking,  sir,"  she  said. 
'  May  I  go  with  you,  my  pretty  maid  V 
'It's  just  as  you  please,  kind  sir,"  she  said, 


'  What  is  your  father,  my  pretty  maid  t"      [Repeat.] 

'My  father's  a  farmer,  sir,"  she  said. 

1  Then  I  would  marry  you,  my  pretty  maid, 

'  That's  not  as  yon  please,  kind  sir,"  she  said. 

What  is  your  fortune,  my  pretty  maid  V    [Repeat.] 
My  face  is  my  fortune,  kind  sir,"  she  said. 
Then  I  can't  marry  you,  my  pretty  maid," 
Nobody  ashed  you,  kind  sir/*  she  said, 
}y  asked yoU,  kind  sir,''  she  said. 


124  SONGS   OF   THE   FARM. 


WHEN  A  LITTLE  FARM  WE  KEEP. 

A  Popular  Duett. 

He.  When  a  little  farm  we  keep, 

And  have  little  girls  and  boys, 
With  little  pigs  and  little  sheep, 
To  make  a  little  noise. 
Both.        Oh  !  what  happy,  merry  days  we'll  see, 

With  our  little  lambs  a  sporting  on  our  knee. 

He.  Then  we'll  keep  a  little  maid, 

And  a  little  horse  beside, 
A  little  horse  and  gig  or  sleigh, 
To  take  a  little  ride. 
Both.        Oh  !  how  happy  we  will  be, 

With  our  little  children  sitting  on  our  knee. 

He.  The  boys  I'll  conduct, 

She.  The  girls  I'll  instruct, 

He.  In  reading  I'll  engage, 

Each  son  is  not  deficient. 
She.  In  music  I'll  presage, 

Each  girl  is  a  proficient. 
He.  Now  boy,  your  B.  A.  Ba. 

She.  Now  girl,  your  Do — re — ma. 

Both         Oh  !  how  happy  we  will  be, 

With  our  little  children  lisping  on  our  knee. 


THE  HARVESTER'S  JOYS. 

The  blithe  rosy  summer  comes  laughing  along, 

Beneath  the  sun's  ripening  ray, 
And  we  hear  the  clear  notes  of  the  harvester's  song 

Over  hill  and  o'er  meadow  so  gay, 
How  joyful  to  toss  round  the  sweet-scented  hay, 

Or  to  spread  the  mown  grass  to  the  sun, 
While  the  mowers  are  jollily  bending  away, 
And  in  merry  measure  their  sweeping  scythes  play, 

And  ring  when  the  green  swathe  is  done  ! 


SONGS    OF   THE    FARM.  125 

And  in  the  preen  field,  ere  the  noon-tide  is  near, 

What  unallov'd  pleasures  pervade, 
When  the  merry  farm  maid  with  a  rose  in  her  hair, 

Spreads  a  rural  repast  in  the  shade  ! 
Round  the  sweet  milk  and  pie,  how  we  make  the  jokes  fly! 

And  the  heated  noon  hour  beguiling, 
We  relate  pleasing  stories  with  songs  of  true  glee, 
As  we  sit  or  recline  'neath  the  sheltering  tree, 

And  heaven's  blue  canopy  smiling 


THE  FARMER  SAT  IN  HIS  EASY  CHAIR. 

Music  published  by  Firth,  Pond,  <fe  Co.,  New  York. 

The  farmer  sat  in  his  easy  chair, 

Smoking  his  pipe  of  clay, 
While  his  hale  old  wife  with  busy  care, 

Was  clearing  the  dinner  away  : 
A  sweet  little  girl  witli  fine  blue  eyes, 
On  her  grandfather's  knee  was  catching  flies. 

The  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  her  head, 

With  a  tear  on  his  wrinkled  face; 
He  thought  how  often  her  mother,  dead, 

Had  sat  in  the  selfsame  place  : 
As  the  tear  stole  down  his  h.-ilf-shut  eye — 
a  Don't  smoke,"  said  the  child  ;  "  how  it  makes  you  cry  V9 

The  house-dog  lav  stretch'd  out  on  the  floor, 
Where  the  shade  after  noon  used  to  steal ; 

The  busy  old  wife  by  the  open  door, 
Was  turning  the  spinning-wheel; 

And  the  old  brass  clock  on  the  mantle-tree, 

Had  plodded  along  till  almost  three: 

Still  the  farmer  sat  in  his  easy  chair, 

While  close  to  his  heaving  breast, 
The  moisten'd  brow  and  cheek  so  fair, 

Of  his  sweet  grandchild  were  press'd; 
His  head,  bent  down,  on  her  soft  hair  lay — 
Fast  asleep  were  they  both,  that  summer  day. 


SONGS  OF  AMERICA, 

OR  NATIONAL  SONGS. 


Origin  of  the  Song — The  Star  Spangled  Banner. 

This  favorite  National  Lyric  was  composed  under  the  following  circum- 
stances : — A  gentleman  had  left  Baltimore,  with  a  flag  of  truce,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  getting  released  from  the  British  fleet  a  friend  of  his,  who  had  been 
captured  at  Marlborough.  He  went  as  far  as  the  mouth  of  the  Patuxent, 
and  was  not  permitted  to  return,  lest  the  intended  attack  on  Baltimore 
should  be  disclosed.  He  was  therefore  brought  up  the  bay  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Patapsco,  where  the  flag-vessel  was  kept  under  the  guns  of  a  frigate ; 
and  he  was  compelled  to  witness  the  bombardment  of  Fort  M'Henry,  which, 
the  admiral  had  boasted  he  would  carry  in  a  few  hours,  and  that  the  city 
must  fall.  He  watched  the  flag  at  the  fort  through  the  whole  day,  with  an 
anxiety  that  can  be  better  felt  than  described,  until  the  night  prevented 
him  from  seeing  it.  In  the  night  he  watched  the  bomb-shells,  and  at  early 
dawn  his  eye  was  again  greeted  by  the  proudly-waving  flag  of  his  country. 

STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER. 

Oh,  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 

What  so  proudly  we  hail'd  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming, 
Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars  thro'  the  perilous  fight, 

O'er  the  ramparts  we  watch'd  were  so  gallantly  streaming; 
And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air 

Gave  proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still  there? 
Oh  !  say,  does  that  star-spangled  banner  yet  wave 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave? 

On  the  shore  dimly  seen  thro'  the  mists  of  the  deep, 
Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 

What  is  that  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  tow'ring  steep, 
As  it  fitfully  blows,  half  conceals,  half  discloses? 
(126) 


SONGS    OF    AMERICA.  127 

Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam, 
In  full  glory  reflected  now  shines  on  the  stream  : 

Tis  the  Btar-spangTO  banner!  oh,  long  may  it  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

And  where  is  that  band  who  so  vauntingly  swore, 

That  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion 
A  home  and  a  country,  shall  leave  us  no  more? 

Their  blood  has  washed  out  their  foul  footsteps'  pollution  : 
No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave, 

From  the  terror  of  flight,  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave; 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

Oh  !  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 

Between  their  lov'd  home,  and  the  war's  desolation ; 
Blest  with  vict'ry  and  peace,  may  the  heav'n  rescued  land 

Praise  the  power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation; 
Then  conquer  we  must,  for  our  cause  it  is  just, 
Let  this  be  our  motto,  "  in  God  is  our  trust," 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  ihe  BRAVE. 

Francis  S.  Ket. 

THE  AMERICAN  STAR. 

Come,  strike  the  bold  anthem,  the  war-dogs  are  howling, 

Already  they  eagerly  snuff  up  their  prey ; 
The  red  cloud  of  war  o'er  our  forests  is  scowling, 

Soft  peace  spreads  her  wings  and  flies  weeping  away; 
The  infants  affrighted  cling  close  to  their  mothers, 

The  youths  grasp  their  swords,  for  the  combat  prepare ; 
While  beauty  weeps,  fathers  and  lovers  and  brothers, 

All  rush  to  display  the  American  Star. 

Come  blow  the  shrill  buirle — the  loud  drum  awaken, 

The  dread  rifle  seize,  let  the  cannon  deep  roar; 
No  heart  with  pale  fear,  or  faint  doubtings  be  shaken, 

No  slave's  hostile  foot  leave  a  print  on  our  shore. 
Shall  mother-,  wives,  daughters,  and  sisters  left  weeping, 

Insulted  by  ruffians,  be  dragg'd  to  despair? 
Oh,  no  !  from  the  hills  the  proud  eacrle  comes  swooping, 

And  wave<  to  the  brave  the  American  Star. 


128  SONGS   OP   AMERICA. 

The  spirits  of  Washington,  Warren,  Montgomery, 

Look  down  from  the  clouds  with  bright  aspect  serene 
Come  soldiers,  a  tear  and  a  toast  to  their  memory, 

Rejoicing  they'll  see  us  as  they  once  have  been ; 
To  us  the  high  boon  by  the  gods  has  been  granted, 

To  spread  the  glad  tidings  of  liberty  far, 
Let  millions  invade  us,  we'll  meet  them  undaunted, 

And  conquer  or  die  by  the  American  Star. 

Your  hands  then,  dear  comrades,  round  liberty's  altar, 

United,  we  swear  by  the  souls  of  the  brave, 
Not  one  from  the  strong  resolution  shall  falter, 

To  live  independent,  or  sink  in  the  grave. 
Then  freemen  fill  up;  lo  !  the  striped  banners  flying 

The  high  bird  of  liberty  screams  through  the  air, 
Beneath  her  oppression  and  tyranny  dying, 

Success  to  the  beaming  American  Star. 


THE  FLAG-  OF  OUK  UNION. 

A  song  for  our  Banner,  the  watchword  recall, 

Which  gave  the  Republic  her  station, 
United  we  stand — Divided  we  fall, 

It  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation. 
The  union  of  lakes — the  union  of  lands, 

The  union  of  States  ne'er  can  sever, 
The  union  of  hearts — the  union  of  hands, 

And  the  flag  of  our  Union  for  ever  and  ever, 

The  flag  of  our  Union  for  ever. 

What  God  in  his  infinite  wisdom  designed, 

And  armed  with  republican  thunder, 
Not  all  the  earth's  despots,  and  factions  combined, 

Have  the  power  to  conquer  or  sunder. 
The  union  of  lakes — the  union  of  lands, 

The  union  of  States  none  can  sever, 
The  union  of  hearts — the  union  of  hands, 

And  the  flag  of  our  Union  for  ever  and  ever, 


And  the  flag,  &c. 


Wm.  Vincent  Wallacb. 


BONOS    OF   AMERICA.  129 


OUR  UNION  RIGHT  Oil  WRONG. 

As  sun<r  throughout  the  States  by  Hiss  Hiffert,  Ac,  Ac 
Music  Published  hy  Firth,  Pond  A  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Rouse,  hearts  of  Freedom's  only  home, 

Hark  to  disunion's  cry, 
Dear  liberty  beneath  her  dome, 

Proclaims  that  danger's  nigh  ; 
Come  let  your  noble  shouts  ring  forth, 

In  trumpet  voices  strong, 
u  We  know  no  South,  we  know  no  North, 

Our  Union  Right  or  Wrong." 
"  We  know  no  South,  we  know  no  North, 

Our  Union  Right  or  Wrong." 

The  temple  our  brave  Fathers  made, 

The  wonder  of  the  world, 
Shall  they  behold  their  sons  dismay'd, 

When  treason's  flag's  unfurled  ; 
Oh  !  never,  by  the  glorious  stars 

Which  on  our  banner  throng; 
Rouse,  sons  of  three  victorious  wars, 

For  Union  Right  or  Wrong. 

Our  patriotic  Fathers'  shades, 

With  Y>Tashington  on  high, 
Point  to  their  blood  anointed  blades 

And  to  their  children  cry, 
Rouse,  freemen  by  your  Fathers'  scars, 

On  to  the  rescue  throng; 
Defend  our  flag  and  sacred  stars, 

The  Union  Right  or  Wrong. 

Sons  of  the  press,  proclaim  its  worth 

In  telegraphic  fires, 
Bid  young  America  stand  forth 

And  emulate  their  sires ; 
Wake  sister  States,  and  hand  in  hand, 

Round  Freedom's  Temple  throng, 
Come  shout  in  one  united  Band, 

"  Our  Union  Right  or  Wrong" 

Silas  S.  Steele. 
9 


ISO  BONGS   OF  AMERICA. 


COLUMBIA'S  OUR  HAPPY  LAND. 

Tune — "  We  have  come  from  a  Happy  Land.'* 

Columbia's  our  happy  land, 

'Neath  liberty's  sway, 
'Tis  guarded  by  freedom's  band, 
By  night  and  by  day. 
North,  South,  East,  and  West, 
Hearts  with  peace  and  plenty  blest, 
Praise  heaven's  high  behest, 
And  sing  blithe  and  gay. 
Chorus — Columbia's  our  happy  land, 
'Neath  liberty's  sway, 
Guarded  by  freedom's  band, 
By  night  and  by  day. 

Columbia's  our  happy  home, 

Plenty's  her  store, 
Children  who  from  her  roam, 
Still  bless  her  the  more. 
Strangers  who  seek  her  lands, 
Find  open  hearts  and  hands, 
And  in  united  bands, 

Sing  blithe  and  gay. 
Columbia's  our  happy  land,  &c. 

Columbia's  our  happy  school, 

Where  all  can  come  in, 
And  learn  wisdom's  golden  rule, 
To  toil  is  to  win. 
Science  and  Art  unite, 
Shedding  forth  their  hallow'd  light, 
Crowning  with  useful  might, 
All  on  their  way. 
Columbia's  our  happy  land,  &c. 


SONGS   OF   AMERICA.  181 


HAIL  COLUMBIA. 

Hail  Columbia  !  happy  land  ! 
Hail  ye  heroes  !  heaven-born  band  ! 

"Who  fought  and  bled  in  freedom's  cause, 
Who  fought  and  bled  in  freedom's  cause, 
And  when  the  storm  of  war  was  gone, 
Enjoyed  the  peace  your  valor  won. 
Let  independence  be  our  boast, 
Ever  mindful  what  it  cost; 
Ever  grateful  for  the  prize, 
Let  its  altar  reach  the  skies. 
Firm — united — let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  liberty ; 
As  a  band  of  brothers  join'd, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 

Immortal  patriots!  rise  once  more; 

Defend  your  rights,  defend  your  shore ; 
Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand, 
Let  no  rude  foe,  with  impious  hand, 

Invade  the  shrine  where  sacred  lies, 

Of  toil  and  blood  the  well-earn'd  prize. 
While  offering  peace  sincere  and  just 
In  heaven  we  place  a  manly  trust, 
That  truth  and  justice  will  prevail, 
And  every  scheme  of  bondage  fail. 
Firm — united,  &c. 

Sound,  sound,  the  trump  of  fame  ! 

Let  Washington's  great  name, 

Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause,' 
Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause, 

Let  every  clime  to  freedom  dear, 

Listen  with  a  joyful  ear; 

With  equal  skill,  and  god-like  power 
He  govern'd  in  the  fearful  hour 
Of  horrid  war;  or  guides  with  ease, 
The  happier  times  of  honest  peace. 
Firm — united,  &c. 


13?  SONGS   OF   AMERICA. 

Behold  the  chief  who  now  commands, 
Once  more  to  serve  his  country  stands — 
The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat ; 
The  rock  on  which  the  storm  will  beat; 
But  arm'd  in  virtue,  firm  and  true, 
His  hopes  are  fix'd  on  heaven  and  you. 
When  hope  was  sinking  in  dismay, 
And  gloom  obseur'd  Columbia's  day, 
His  steady  mind,  from  changes  free, 
Resolv'd  on  death  or  liberty. 
Firm — united — let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  liberty ; 
As  a  band  of  brothers  join'd, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find. 

F.  Hopkinsok. 

THE  RELICS  OF  WASHINGTON. 
Where  thy  bright  wave,  Potomac,  by  fair  Vernon  sweeps, 
There,  shrouded  in  glory,  great  Washington  sleeps ; 
There  the  spirits  of  freedom  exultingly  roam, 
Their  blessings  to  breathe  on  the  patriot's  tomb. 

No  proud  marble  rears  its  high  crest  o'er  his  dust, 
For  honor's  hand  lights  up  the  grave  of  the  just; 
And  the  star  of  his  glory  which  brighter  still  glows, 
Shall  hallow  the  spot  where  his  relics  repose. 

While  the  genius  of  Freedom  the  earth  shall  illume, 
His  deeds  shall  light  forth  her  brave  sons  to  his  tomb ; 
And  his  name's  hallow'd  splendor  a  watchword  shall  be 
For  millions  who  yet  shall  resolve  to  be  free. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 

THE  AGE  OF  PROGRESS. 

The  age  of  giant  progress, 

Americans  all  hail ! 
The  land,  all  interwoven 

With  telegraph  and  rail ; 
No  sluggish  chains  shall  bind  us, 

No  tardiness  delay; 
The  morning  light  is  breaking  (waking) 

O'er  our  destiny. 


SONGS   OF   AMERICA.  183 

The  age  of  trained  lightning, 

"Despatching"  human  thought; 
What  wondrous  revolution 

The  scheme  of  Morse  hath  wrought ! 
No  time,  no  space  can  hinder 

The  quick,  electric  fire  ; 
Intelligence  is  flashing  (dashing) 

O'er  the  magic  wire. 

The  age  of  grand  conceptions, 

The" "cable  of  the  deep!" 
It  u  snapped,"  but  we  will  mend  it, 

We  have  no  time  to  weep. 
The  great  Pacific  Railroad  ! 

'Twill  not  be  long  before 
The  railroad  cars  are  flying  (hieing) 

From  the  golden  shore. 

The  age  of  priceless  knowledge, — 

The  scholar's  jubilee  ! 
The  land  all  dotted  over 

With  institutions  free. 
Our  public  schools  !  Oh,  hail  them  ! 

They  offer  treasures  cheap  : 
The  boys  and  girls  are  scaling  (hailing) 

Science's  rugged  steep. 

UNFURL  THE  GLORIOUS  BANNER. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Unfurl  the  glorious  banner, 

Let  it  sway  upon  the  breeze, 
The  emblem  of  our  country's  pride, 

On  land,  and  on  the  seas — 
The  emblem  of  our  liberty, 

Borne  proudly  in  the  wars, 
The  hope  of  every  freeman, 

The  gleaming  stripes  and  stars. 
Chorus — Then  unfurl  the  glorious  banner 

Out  on  the  welcoming  air, 
Read  the  record  of  the  olden  time, 

Upon  its  radiance  there  ! 


134  SONGS    OF  AMERICA. 

In  the  battle  it  shall  lead  us, 

And  our  banner  ever  be, 
A  beacon  light  to  glory, 

And  a- guide  to  victory. 

The  glorious  band  of  patriots 

Who  gave  the  flag  its  birth, 
Have  writ  with  steel  in  history, 

The  record  of  its  worth ; 
From  east  to  west,  from  sea  to  sea, 

From  pole  to  tropic  sun, 
Will  eyes  grow  bright,  and  hearts  throb  high 

At  the  name  of  Washington. 
Then  unfurl  the  glorious  banner,  &c. 

Ah  !  proudly  should  we  bear  it, 

And  guard  this  flag  of  ours, 
Borne  bravely  in  its  infancy, 

Amidst  the  darker  hours ; 
Only  the  brave  may  bear  it, 

A  guardian  it  shall  be 
For  those  who  well  have  won  the  right 

To  boast  of  liberty. 
Then  unfurl  the  glorious  banner,  &c. 

The  meteor  flag  of  seventy-six, 

Long  may  it  wave  in  pride, 
To  tell  the  world  how  nobly 

The  patriot  fathers  died ; 
When  from  the  shadows  of  their  night 

Outburst  the  brilliant  sun, 
It  bathed  in  light  the  stripes  and  stars, 

And  lo  !  the  field  was  won. 
Then  unfurl  the  glorious  banner,  &c. 

YE  SONS  OF  FREEDOM,  WAKE  TO  GLORY. 

Air —  The  Marseillaise. 

Ye  sons  of  freedom,  wake  to  glory ! 

Hark  !  hark  !  what  myriads  bid  you  rise  ! 
Your  children,  wives,  and  grandsires  hoary, 

Behold  their  tears  and  hear  their  cries  ! 

Behold  their  tears  and  hear  their  cries  I 


SONGS    OF   AMERICA.  135 

Shall  hateful  tyrants,  mischiefs  breeding, 
With  hireling  hosts,  a  ruffian  band, 
Affright  and  desolate  the  land, 
While  peace  and  liberty  lie  bleeding? 
To  arms  !  to  arms,  ye  brave  ! 
Th'  avenging  sword  unsheath  ! 
March  on  !  march  on  !  all  hearts  resolved 
On  victory  or  death  ! 

Now,  now  the  dangerous  storm  is  rolling, 

Which  treacherous  kings  confederate  raise; 
The  dogs  of  war,  let  loose,  are  howling — 

And  lo  !  our  walls  and  cities  blaze  ! 
And  shall  we  basely  view  the  ruin, 

While  lawless  force,  with  guilty  stride, 

Spreads  desolation  far  and  wide, 
With  crimes  and  blood  his  hands  imbruing? 
To  arms,  &c. 

With  luxury  and  pride  surrounded, 

The  vile,  insatiate  tyrants  dare, 
Their  thirst  of  gold  and  power  unbounded, 

To  mete  and  vend  the  light  and  air. 
Like  beasts  of  burden  would  they  load  us — 

Like  gods  would  bid  their  slaves  adore — 

But  man  is  man — aud  who  is  more  ? 
Then  shall  they  longer  lash  and  goad  us  ? 
To  arms,  &c 

Oh,  liberty !  can  man  resign  thee, 

Once  having  felt  thy  generous  flame  ? 
Can  dungeons,  bolts,  and  bars  confine  thee? 

Or  whips  thy  noble  spirit  tame? 
Too  long  the  world  has  wept,  bewailing 

That  falsehood's  dagger  tyrants  wield — 

But  freedom  is  our  sword  and  shield, 
And  all  their  arts  are  unavailing. 
To  arms,  &c. 


186  SONGS    OF   AMERICA. 


UNCLE  SAM'S  FARM 

Published  by  Ditson  &  Co.,  227  Washington  street,  Boston, 
Tune. —  Walk  in,  walk  in,  &c. 

Of  all  the  mighty  nations, 

In  the  East  or  in  the  West, 
Oh  !  this  glorious  Yankee  Nation 

Is  the  greatest  and  the  best; 
We  have  room  for  all  creation, 

And  our  banner  is  unfurl'd  : 
Here  is  a  general  invitation, 

To  the  people  of  the  world. 

Chorus. — Come  along,  come  along — 

Make  no  delay ; 
Come  from  every  nation  ; 

Come  from  every  way ; 
Our  land  is  broad  enough — 

Don't  be  alarmed, 
For  Uncle  Sam  is  rich  enough, 

To  give  us  all  a  farm. 

St.  Lawrence  marks  our  northern  line, 

As  fast  her  waters  flow, 
And  the  Rio  Grande  our  southern  bound, 

'Way  down  to  Mexico; 
From  the  great  Atlantic  Ocean, 

Where  the  sun  begins  to  dawn, 
Leaps  across  the  Rocky  Mountains, 

Away  to  Oregon. 

Come  along,  come  along,  &c. 

The  South  may  raise  the  cotton, 

And  the  West  the  corn  and  pork. 
New  England  manufactories 

Shall  do  up  the  finer  work 
For  the  deep  and  flowing  waterfalls, 

That  course  along  our  hills, 
Are  just  the  thing  for  washing  sheep, 

And  driving  cotton  mills. 

Come  along,  come  along,  &c. 


SONGS   OP   AMERICA.  137 

Our  fathers  gave  us  liberty, 

But  little  did  I  dream 
The  grand  results  that  flow  along 

This  mighty  age  of  steam  ; 
For  our  mountains,  lakes,  and  rivers, 

Are  in  a  blaze  of  fire, 
And  we  send  our  news  by  lightning, 

On  the  telegraphic  wire. 

Come  along,  come  along,  &c. 


INDEPENDENCE  DAY. 

Originally  sung  by  Charley  Burke. 
Tune. — Bonnie  Laddie,  Highland  Laddie. 

Squeak  the  fife  and  beat  the  drum, 
Independence  day  is  come, 
Let  the  roasting  pig  be  bled, 
Quick  twist  off'  the  rooster's  head, 
Quickly  rub  the  pewter-platter, 
Heap  the  nut  cakes,  fried  in  butter; 
Set  the  cups  and  beaker  glass, 
The  pumpkin  and  the  apple-sass. 

Send  the  keg  to  shop  for  brandy, 
Maple  sugar  we  have  handy; 
Independent,  staggering  Dick, 
A  noggin  mix  of  swingeing  thick  ; 
Sal,  put  on  your  russet  skirt, 
Jonathan,  get  your  boughten  shirt, 
Here  comes  Sambo  witli  his  fiddle- 
To-day  we  dance  to  tiddle  diddle. 

Sambo,  take  a  dram  of  whisky, 
And  play  us  Yankee  Doodle  friskey, 
I,  come  leave  your  wicked  tricks, 
And  let  us  have  a  reel  of  six. 
Father  and  mother  shall  make  two — 
-  and  all  a  row : 
.id  uance  with  quality, 
'lest  equality. 


/ 

138 


SONGS    OF   AMERICA. 

Father  and  mother  are  but  men, 
Sambo — take  a  sup  of  gin — 
Come  foot  it,  Sal — Moll,  figure  in, 
And  mother,  you  dance  up  to  him. 
Now  saw  as  fast  as  ever  you  can  do, 
And  father  you  cross  o'er  to  Sambo — 
Thus  we  dance,  and  thus  we  play, 
On  glorious  Independence  Day. 

Encore  Verses. 

Rub  more  rosin  on  your  bow, 
And  let  us  have  another  go — 
Zounds  !  as  sure  as  eggs  and  bacon, 
Here's  ensign  Sneak,  and  uncle  Deacon. 
Aunt  Thiah,  and  there's  Bets  behind  her, 
On  blundering  mare,  than  beetle  blinder, 
And  there's  the  squire  too,  with  his  lady  ; 
Sal,  hold  the  beast,  I'll  take  the  baby. 

Moll,  bring  the  squire  our  great  arm  chair, 
Good  folks  we're  glad  to  see  you  here — 
Jonathan  get  the  great  case  bottle, 
Your  teeth  can  pull  its  corn-cob  stopple. 
Ensign — Deacon,  never  mind, 
Squire,  drink  until  you're  blind — 
Thus  we  drink  and  dance  away, 
This  glorious  Independence  Day. 

Royal  Tyler,  1787. 

RED,  WHITE,  AND  BLUE. 

Oh  Columbia,  the  gem  of  the  Ocean, 

The  home  of  the  brave  and  the  free, 
The  shrine  of  each  patriot's  devotion, 

A  world  offers  homage  to  thee. 
Thy  mandates  make  heroes  assemble, 

When  liberty's  form  stands  in  view, 
Thy  banners  make  tyranny  tremble, 

When  borne  by  the  red,  white,  and  blue. 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white,  and  blue, 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white,  and  blue, 
Thy  banners  make  tyranny  tremble, 
When  borne  by  the  red,  white  and  blue. 


SONGS    OF    AMIR  I  139 

"When  war  waged  its  wide  desolation, 

And  threatened  our  land  to  deform, 
The  ark  then  of  freedom's  foundation, 

Columbia  rode  safe  through  the  storm. 
With  her  garland  of  victory  o'er  her, 

"When  so  proudly  she  bore  her  bold  crew, 
With  her  flag  proudly  floating  before  her, 

The  boast  of  the  red,  white,  and  blue. 
The  boast  of,  &c. 

The  wine  cup,  the  wine  cup  bring  hither, 

And  fill  you  it  up  to  the  brim, 
May  the  memory  of  Washington  ne'er  wither, 

Nor  the  star  of  his  glory  grow  dim. 
May  the  service  united  ne'er  sever, 

But  e'er  to  their  colors  prove  true, 
The  army  and  navy  forever, 

Three  cheers  for  the  red,  white,  and  blue, 
Three  cheers  for,  &c. 

THE  BOSTIXG  TEA  PARTY  OF  1773. 

Tune. — Bow — wow — wow.     Sung  with  immense  applause. 

I'm  a  Yankee  lad  that's  jist  come  down, 

An'  guess  I'll  sing  a  ditty, 
And  them  that  doesn't  relish  it, 

I  reckon  it's  a  pity. 
TJiat  is,  I  think,  I  should  have  been 

A  plaguy  sight  more  finish'd  man, 
If  I'd  been  born  in  Boston  town ; 

But  I  wnrn't,  'cause  I'm  a  countryman. 
Tol  lol  de  ra. 
Bi  tol  de  riddle  iddle,  ri  tol  de  ra. 

And  t'other  day  the  Yankee  folks, 

Were  mad  about  the  taxes, 
And  so  we  went,  like  Indians  dress'd, 

To  split  tea-chests  with  axes: 
I  mean,  'twas  done  in  seventy-three, 

An'  we  were  real  gritty  : 
The  mayor  he  would  have  led  the  gang, 

But  Boston  warn't  a  city. 
Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 


140  SONGS   OP   AMERICA. 

Ye  see  we  Yankees  didn't  care, 

A  pin  for  wealth  or  booty, 
And  so,  in  State  street,  we  agreed, 

We'd  never  pay  the  duty ; 
That  is,  in  State  street  'twould  have  been, 

But  'twas  King  street  they  call'd  it  then  ; 
And  the  tax  on  tea,  it  was  so  bad, 

The  women  would  not  scald  it  then. 
Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 

To  Charlestown  bridge  we  all  went  down, 

To  see  the  thing  corrected  : 
That  is,  we  would  have  gone  there, 

But  the  bridge,  it  warn't  erected  \ 
The  tea,  perhaps,  was  very  good : 

Bohea,  Souchong,  or  Hyson; 
But  drinking  tea,  it  warn't  the  rage, 

The  duty  made  it  pison. 

Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 


And  then  we  went  aboard  the  ships, 

Our  vengeance  to  administer, 
And  didn't  care  a  tarnal  bit, 

For  any  king  or  minister ; 
We  made  a  plaguy  mess  of  tea, 

In  one  of  the  biggest  dishes, 
I  mean,  we  steep'd  it  in  the  sea, 

And  treated  all  the  fishes. 
Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 


And  then,  you  see,  we  were  all  found  out, 

A  thing  we  hadn't  dreaded ; 
The  leaders  were  to  London  sent, 

And  instantly  beheaded  : 
That  is,  I  mean,  they  would  have  been, 

If  ever  they'd  been  taken  ; 
But  the  leaders,  they  were  never  cotch'd, 

And  so  they  saved  their  bacon. 
Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    AMERICA.  141 

Now  heaven  bless  the  president, 

And  all  this  godly  nation  ; 
That  is,  sir,  if  we  were  not  blest, 

As  it  is,  there's  no  occasion. 
Long  live  them  folks  who  threw  that  herb, 

In  the  kettle  of  the  sea,  sir, 
That  is,  since  they  are  dead,  may  they 

Drink  immortali(ty)  tea,  sir. 
Tol  lol  de  ra,  &c. 

THE  STRONG  LADS  OF  LABOR. 

Tune—"  Taking  Tea  in  the  Arbor." 

Let  others  proclaim 

The  bold  son  of  war's  fame, 
And  the  heroes  of  cannon  and  sabre, 

A  song  let  me  sing, 

And  around  let  it  ring, 
In  the  praise  of  "  the  Strong  Lads  of  Labor." 

Let  monarchies  boast 

Of  the  walls  on  their  coast, 
To  ward  off  a  threatening  neighbor, 

But  a  nation's  true  power, 

In  danger's  dark  hour, 
Exists  in  her  strong  lads  of  labor. 
Chorus — But  a  nation's  true  power, 

In  danger's  dark  hour, 
Exists  in  her  Strong  Lads  of  Labor. 

Let  luxury's  fool, 

In  his  proud  splendor  roll, 
Or  dance  out  his  life  to  the  tabor, 

Could  he  drink,  could  he  eat, 

Could  he  clothe  head  or  feet, 
Were  it  not  for  the  Strong  Lads  of  Labor  ? 

The  sword,  tongue,  or  pen, 

With  good  minds  and  good  men, 
May  each  prove  a  very  good  neighbor, 

But  in  war,  plague,  or  panic, 

Their  shield's  the  mechanic, 
And  the  aid  of  the  strong  sons  of  labor. 

But  in  war,  plague,  or  panic,  &c. 


142  SONGS  OF   AMERICA. 

From  forest  to  city, 

From  cradle  to  coffin, 
We  see  the  great  work  of  their  hands,  sir, 

Each  mountain's  high  crest, 

And  the  ocean's  broad  breast, 
By  the  might  of  the  toiler  is  spanned,  sir. 

Then  send  the  shout  home, 

To  the  sky's  lofty  d^me, 
Be  each  man  to  man,  brother  and  neighbor,* 

Sing  the  plough,  plane,  and  plumb, 

Trowel,  hammer,  and  loom, 
And  reward  to  the  "  Strong  Lads  of  Labor  " 

Sing  the  plough,  plane,  and  plumb,  ,•     *- 

Trowel,  hammer,  &c. 

YOUNG  AMERICA. 

A   NEW   AND   POPULAR   SOWG. 
Air — Pibroch  of  Donald  Dhu. 

Hearts  that  love  liberty, 

Hands  to  defend  her, 
Swear  by  your  father's  blood, 

Nothing  shall  rend  her. 
Love  for  your  father's  gift, 

Thrills  your  souls  ever, 
Firm  as  your  mountain  cliffs, 

Stand  ye  for  ever. 
Freedom's  young  eagles  each 

His  own  brave  defender, 
His  home  and  his  fatherland, 

He'll  "  NEVER    SURRENDER." 

Quick  as  the  lightning's  flash, 

Free  as  the  broad  rivers 
When  liberty  calls  you, 

You've  a  life's  blood  to  give  her. 
With  you  there's  no  base  heart, 

There's  no  soul  so  sordid, 
To  give  up  for  gold  or  place, 

The  glory  we've  hoarded. 
Freedom's  young  eagles,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    AMERICA.  143 


THE  FREEDOM  OF  ELECTIONS, 

OR  LAW  AND  ORDER. 
Tune —  Yankee  Doodle. 

While  some  ou  rights  and  some  on  wrongs, 

Prefer  their  own  reflections, 
The  people's  rigiit  demands  our  song, 

The  Right  of  Free  Elections. 
For  government  and  order's  sake, 

And  law's  important  sections, 
Let  all  stand  by  the  Ballot  Box, 
For  fair  and  free  elections. 
Chorus — "  Law  and  order"  be  the  stake, 
With  freedom  and  protection ; 
Let  all  stand  by  the  Ballot  Box, 
For  fair  and  free  elections. 

Each  .town  and  country's  wealth  and  peace, 

Its  trade  and<dl  connections, 
With  science,  arts  nigst  all  increase, 

By  fair  and  free  Elections. 
Then  thwart  the  schemes  of  factious  lands, 

And  traitor  disaffections,      . 
Stand  up  with  willing  hearts  and  hands, 

For  fair  and  free  elections. 

Law  and  order  be  the  stake,  &c. 

Should  enemies  beset  us  round, 

Of  foreign,  fierce  complexions, 
Undaunted  we  can  stand  our  ground, 

Upheld  by  free  elections. 
Elections  are  to  make  us  laws, 

For  trade,  peace,  and  protection, 
Who  fails  to  vote  forsakes  the  cause 

Of  freedom  and  elections. 
Chorus — Law  and  order  be  the  stake, 

With  freedom  and  protection, 
Let  all  stand  by  the  Ballot  Box, 

For  fair  and  free  elections. 


3  H  SONGS   OF   AMERICA. 


THE  AMERICAN  BOY. 

"  Father,  look  up,  aud  see  that  flag  ! 

How  gracefully  it  flies  ! 
Those  pretty  stripes — they  seem  to  be 

A  rainbow  iu  the  skies/' 
u  It  is  your  country's  flag,  my  son, 

And  proudly  drinks  the  light, 
O'er  ocean's  wave — in  foreign  climes 

A  symbol  of  our  might." 


"  Father,  what  fearful  noise  is  that, 

Like  thundering  in  the  clouds  ? 
Why  do  the  people  wave  their  hats, 

And  rush  along  in  crowds  V* 
"  It  is  the  voice  of  cannonry, 

The  glad  shouts  of  the  free : 
This  is  a  day  to  memory  dear — 

'Tis  Freedom's  jubilee." 

"  I  wish  that  I  was  now  a  man ; 

I'd  fire  my  cannon  too, 
And  cheer  as  loudly  as  the  rest  : 

But,  father,  why  don't  you  V 
"  I'm  getting  old  and  weak ;  but  still 

My  heart  is  big  with  joy. 
I've  witness'd  many  a  day  like  this : 

Shout  you  aloud,  my  boy." 

"  Hurrah,  for  Freedom's  jubilee  ! 

God  bless  our  native  land, 
And  may  I  live  to  hold  the  sword 

Of  freedom  in  my  hand  !" 
"  Well  done  !  my  boy  :  grow  up  and  love 

The  land  that  gave  you  birth ; 
A  home  where  Freedom  loves  to  dwell, 

A  paradise  on  earth." 

J.  H.  Hewett. 


SONGS    OF    AMERICA.  145 


BROTHER  JONATHAN. 

A    FAVORITE    COMIC    SONG. 

Yankee  doodle  was  a  gentleman, 
He  was  true  Yankee  breed,  sirs, 
In  a  punkin  garden  he  was  found 
Among  the  scattered  seed,  sirs. 
His  father  was  a  Johnny  Bull, 
His  mother  Sukey  Goodie  j 
They  used  to  pet  the  boy  to  sleep, 
By  singing  Yankee  Doodle. 

Then  success  to  Brother  Jonathan, 

He  was  a  lad  so  clever, 
He  made  the  foes  of  freedom  run, 
And  drove  them  off  for  ever. 

He  raised  potatoes,  puukins,  beans, 

And  every  thing  in  truth,  sirs, 
Tobacco,  cotton,  sugar  cane, 

For  the  lad  had  a  sweet  tooth,  sirs ; 
When  father  Bull  for  sugar  came 

To  sweeten  his  tea  and  sauces, 
The  boy  you  know  was  not  to  blame, 

For  daubing  Pa  with  lasses. 
Then  success,  &c. 

Some  thousand  troops  Bull  then  dispatch'd 

To  curb  this  youngster's  will,  sirs, 
But  soon  they  all  were  put  to  flight, 

On  little  Bunker  Hill,  sirs. 
At  Princeton,  and  at  Monmouth  too, 

We  shone  with  like  resplendence, 
At  Yorktown  victory  gained  the  rest, 

Which  gave  US  INDEPENDENCE 
Then  success,  &c. 


Now  Johnny  thought  he'd  best  be  off, 
And  leave  his  Bon  be  quiet, 

But  yet  to  go  was  rather  loath, 
Unless  he'd  have  a  riot. 


10 


146  SONGS    Or    AMERICA. 

So  he  greased  the  pole  that  held  the  flag. 
To  frighten  our  Yankee  tars,  sirs, 

But  soon  beyond  old  Johnny's  rag, 
Was  seen  the  stripes  and  stars,  sirs. 
Then  success,  &c. 


Some  thirty  years  had  gone  and  past, 

And  we  lived  snug  and  coodle, 
John,  forgetting  what  had  passed  before, 

Came  back  to  Yankee  Doodle. 
Says  Jonathan,  if  you  presume, 

To  touch  our  gals  or  cotton, 
I  guess  as  how  I'll  learn  you  soon,. 

A  lesson  you've  forgotten. 
Then  success,  &c. 


IMMORTAL  WASHINGTON. 

Tune — Bunch  of  Rushes. 

Columbia's  greatest  glory 
Was  her  loved  chief,  fair  Freedom's  friend ; 

Whose  fame,  renown'd  in  story, 
Shall  last  till  time  itself  shall  end. 
Ye  muses,  bring 
Your  harps,  and  sing 
Sweet  lays  that  in  smooth  numbers  run, 

In  praise  of  our  loved  hero, 
The  great,  the  god-like  Washington. 

His  fame,  through  future  ages, 
Columbia's  free-born  sons  shall  raise; 

The  theme  each  heart  engages, 
All  tongues  shall  join  to  sing  his  praise. 
With  joy  sound  forth 
His  virtuous  worth, 
And  tell  the  glorious  acts  he's  done. 

Of  all  mankind,  the  greatest 
Was  our  beloved  Washington. 


SONGS   OF   AMERICA.  147 


And,  0  !    thou  great  Creator, 
Who  form'd  his  youth,  and  watch'd  his  age, 

Since  thou,  in  course  of  nature, 
Hast  call'd  him  from  his  earthly  stage, 
Great  power  above, 
Enthroned  in  love, 
"Who  was  before  this  world  began, 

Receive  into  thy  bosom 
Our  virtuous  hero — Washington. 


BOLD  PRIVATEER. 

Music  published  by  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  New  York. 

It's  oh  !  my  dearest  Polly,  you  and  I  must  part, 
I  am  going  across  the  seas,  love,  I  give  to  you  my  heart; 
My  ship  she  lies  in  waiting,  so  fare  thee  well,  my  dear, 
I  am  just  going  on  board  of  the  Bold  Privateer. 

But  oh,  ray  dearest  Johnny,  great  dangers  have  been  crossed, 

And  many  a  sweet  life  by  the  seas  has  been  lost ; 

You  had  better  stop  at  home,  with  the  girl  that  loves  you 

dear, 
Than  to  venture  your  life  on  the  Bold  Privateer. 

When  the  wars  are  over — may  heaven  spare  my  life, 
Then  soon  I  will  come  back  to  my  sweet,  loving  wife. 
Then  soon  I  will  get  married  to  charming  Polly,  dear, 
And  forever  bid  adieu  to  the  Bold  Privateer. 

Oh  !  my  dearest  Polly,  your  friends  do  me  dislike, 
Besides  you  have  two  brothers  who'd  quickly  take  my  life. 
Come,  change  your  ring  with  me,  my  dear,  come  change  your 

ring  with  me, 
And  that  shall  be  our  token  when  I  am  on  the  sea. 


SONGS  OF   IRELAND. 


THE  RAMBLER  FROM  CLARE. 

Oh  !  the  first  of  my  rambling  that  ever  was  known, 

I  straight  steered  my  way  to  the  county  Tyrone, 

There  I  fell  to  courting  the  lasses  so  fair, 

And  they  knew  me  by  the  ti-tle  of  the  Rambler  from  Clare. 

Oh  !  the  next  of  my  rambling  it  was  in  June, 

There  I  fell  to  courting  purty  Sally  M'Cune, 

I  soon  won  her  favor  with  many  more  there, 

I  could  not  wed  them  all,  so  played  the  Rambler  from  Clare. 

Oh !  whenever  I'd  go  to  a  ball  or  a  play, 

Or  a  courting  of  fair  girls  along  the  highway, 

They  would  first  view  my  carriage,  and  then  view  my  hair, 

And  they  point  with  their  finger  at  the  Rambler  from  Clare. 

The  next  of  my  rambling  it  was  in  Ardeen, 

Where  I  fell  to  courting  pretty  Molly  Moreen, 

T  thought  to  rove  onward  but  her  heart  held  mine  there, 

And  a  captive  she  made  of  the  Rambler  from  Clare. 

So  now  I'm  resolved  for  to  alter  my  life, 
And  it's  take  to  myself,  oh  !  a  snug  little  wife, 
And  all  my  past  rambles  I  mane  to  repair 
So  adieu  to  the  t-i-i-tle  of  r.he  Rambler  from  Clare. 
(148) 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  149 


WIDOW  MACHREE. 

Widow  Machree,  it's  no  wonder  you  frown, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
Faith,  it  ruins  your  looks,  that  same  dirty  black  gown, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
How  altered  your  hair  with  that  close  cap  you  wear, 
'Tis  destroying  your  hair,  which  should  be  flowing  free, 
Be  no  longer  a  churl  with  its  black  silken  curl, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 

Widow  Machree,  now  the  summer  is  come, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
When  every  thing  smiles  should  a  body  look  grim, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
See  the  birds  go  in  pairs,  the  rabbits  and  hares, 
Why  even  the  bears  now  in  couples  agree, 
And  the  mute  little  fish,  though  they  can't  spake,  they  wish, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 

Widow  Machree,  and  when  winter  comes  in, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
To  be  poking  the  fire  all  alone  is  a  sin, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
Why  the  shovel  and  tongs  to  each  other  belongs, 
And  the  kettle  sings  songs  full  of  family  glee, 
While  alone  with  your  cup,  like  a  hermit  you  sup, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 

And  how  do  you  know,  with  the  comforts  I've  told, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
But  you're  keeping  some  poor  fellow  out  in  the  cold, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
With  such  sins  on  your  head,  your  peace  'ud  be  fled, 
Could  you  sleep  in  your  bed  without  thinking  to  see 
Some  ghost  or  some  sprite,  that  'ud  wake  you  each  night, 

Crying,  "  Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  !" 

Then  take  my  advice,  darling  widow  Machree, 

Och,  hone!  widow  Machree! 
And  with  my  advice,  faith,  I'd  wish  you'd  take  me, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 


150 


SONGS    OF   IRELAND. 


You'd  have  me  desire,  then  stir  up  the  fire, 
And  sure  hope  is  no  liar  in  whispering  to  me, 
That  ghost  'ud  depart,  when  you've  me  near  your  heart, 
Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 

"Widow  Machree,  I  don't  wish  to  be  bold, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 
But  with  these  inducements  that  I  have  just  told, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  !  , 

I  give  you  my  word,  my  own,  my  adored, 
And  as  a  reward,  take  this  promise  from  me, 
To  atone  for  my  sins,  your  first  child  shall  be  twins, 

Och,  hone  !  widow  Machree  ! 

WID  A  DHUDIEEN. 

A   PARODY,    FROM    THE    CELEBRATED    JOHN   BROUGHAM'S 
PO-CA-HON-TAS. 

Air — Widoio  Machree. 

Oh,  wid  a  dhudieen  I  can  blow  away  care, 

Oh,  hone,  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 
Black  thoughts  and  blue  devils  all  melt  into  air, 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 

If  you're  short  any  day, 

Or  a  note  have  to  pay, 

And  you  don't  know  the  way, 

To  come  out  of  it  clean, 

From  your  head  and  your  heart 

You  can  make  it  depart, 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 

Oh,  wid  a  dhudieen  you  recline  at  your  ease, 

Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 
Shut  your  eyes  and  imagine  what  pleasures  you  please 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 

In  dreams  without  sleep, 

All  your  senses  to  steep, 

"While  you're  playing  bo-peep 

Through  each  fairy-like  scene, 

Undisturbed,  I  declare, 

By  a  single  nightmare, 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  162 

Oh,  wid  a  dhudieen  I'm  as  truly  content, 

Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 
What  the  rest  of  the  world  does  I  don't  care  a  oent, 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 

Let  some  folks  desire, 

To  set  rivers  on  fire, 

While  some  others  admire, 

To  run  "  wid  de  machine," 

I've  ambition  enough, 

Just  to  sit  here  and  puff, 
Oh,  hone  !  wid  a  dhudieen  ! 

ERIN  IS  MY  HOME. 

On,  I  have  roamed  o'er  many  lands, 

And  many  friends  I've  met ! 
Not  one  fair  scene  or  kindly  smile, 

Can  this  fond  heart  forget. 
But  I'll  confess  that  I'm  content, 

No  more  I  wish  to  roam, 
Oh,  steer  my  bark  to  Erin's  Isle, 

For  Erin  is  my  home. 

In  Erin's  Isle  there's  manly  hearts, 

And  bosoms  pure  as  snow; 
In  Erin's  Isle  there's  right  good  cheer, 

And  hearts  that  ever  flow. 
In  Erin's  Isle  I'd  pass  my  time, 

No  more  I  wish  to  roam, 
Oh,  steer  my  bark  for  Erin's  Isle, 

For  Erin  is  my  home. 

If  England  was  my  place  of  birth, 

I'd  love  her  tranquil  shore ; 
If  bonny  Scotland  was  my  home, 

Her  mountains  I'd  adore ; 
But  pleasant  days  in  both  I've  past, 

I'll  dream  of  days  to  come; 
Oh,  steer  my  bark  to  Erin's  Isle, 

For  Erin  is  my  home. 


162  SONGS    OF   IRELAND. 

KATHLEEN  MAVOURNEEN. 

Kathleen  Mavourneen  !  the  pray  dawn  is  breaking, 

The  horn  of  the  hunter  is  heard  on  the  hill, 
The  lark  from  her  light  wing  the  bright  dew  is  shaking, 

Kathleen  Mavourneen  !  what,  slumbering  still  ? 
■Oh,  hast  thou  forgotten  how  soon  we  must  sever? 

Oh,  hast  thou  forgotten  this  day  we  must  part  ? 
It  may  be  for  years  and  it  may  be  for  ever, 

Oh,  why  art  thou  silent,  thou  voice  of  my  heart? 
It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  for  ever, 

Then  why  art  thou  silent,  Kathleen  Mavourneen  ? 

Kathleen  Mavourneen,  awake  from  thy  slumbers ! 

The  blue  mountains  glow  in  the  sun's  golden  light; 
Ah  !  where  is  the  spell  that  once  hung  on  my  numbers? 

Arise  in  thy  beauty,  thou  star  of  my  night 
Mavour neen  !  Mavourneen  !  my  sad  tears  are  falling, 

To  think  that  from  Erin  and  thee  I  must  part, 
It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  for  ever, 

Then  why  art  thou  silent,  thou  voice  of  my  heart? 
It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  for  ever, 

Then  why  art  thou  silent,  Kathleen  Mavourneen? 

THERE'S  WHISKEY  IN  THE  JUG. 

I  AM  a  sporting  fellow,  I  never  was  yet  daunted, 
Money  in  the  pocket  whenever  it  was  wanted, 
Robbing  for  gold,  'twas  my  own  folly, 
Sure  I'd  risk  my  life  for  you,  my  sporting  Molly. 
Chorus — Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  ! 

Rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  !  there's  Whiskey  in  the  Jug. 

As  I  was  crossing  the  Mulberry  mountain, 
I  met  with  Captain  Kelly,  his  money  he  was  counting, 
At  first  I  drew  my  pistol,  then  I  drew  my  rapier, 
Stand  and  deliver,  for  I'm  your  money  taker. 

Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  !  &c. 
He  handed  me  twenty  pounds — 'twas  a  pretty  penny,  oh  ! 
I  took  it  home  to  Molly,  she  said  she'd  ne'er  desaive  me, 
I  took  it  home  to  Molly,  she  said  she'd  ne'er  desaive  me, 
But  the  devil's  'mongst  the  women,  and  they  never  can  be  aisy. 

Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  !  &c. 


SONOS    OF    IRELAND.  153 

I  went  into  Molly's  chamber  for  to  take  a  slumber, 
I  went  into  Molly's  chamber,  not  knowing  of  any  danger, 
When  I  was  sleeping,  it's  well  she  knew  the  matter, 
She  unloaded  the  pistols,  and  filled  them  wTith  water. 
Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  !  &c. 

Early  the  next  morning  between  six  and  seven, 
The  house  was  surrounded — likewise  with  Captain  Kelly; 
I  sprang  for  my  pistols,  being  very  much  mistaken, 
I  fired  off  the  water,  and  a  prisoner  1  was  taken. 
Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  mdefy  oh  !  &c. 

I  have  two  little  brothers  enlisted  in  the  army, 
One  of  them's  in  Cork,  the  other's  in  Killarney, 
If  they  were  here  to-night,  I  would  be  free  and  jolly, 
I'd  rather  have  them  here  to-night  than  you,  deceitful  Molly. 
Rack  fal  de  ra,  rack  fal  de  raddy  oh  !  kc. 


KITTY  TYRRELL. 

You're  looking  as  fresh  as  the  morn,  darling, 

Y'ou're  looking  as  bright  as  the  day — 
But  while  on  your  charms  I'm  dilating, 

Y"ou're  stealing  my  poor  heart  away ; 
But  keep  it  and  welcome,  mavourneen, 

Its  loss  I'm  not  going  to  mourn, 
Yet  one  heart's  enough  for  a  body, 

So  pray  give  me  yours  in  return. 

Mavourneen,  mavourneen  ! 
0  pray  give  me  yours  in  return. 

I've  built  me  a  neat  little  cot,  darling, 

I've  pigs  and  potatoes  in  store; 
I've  twenty  good  pounds  in  the  bank,  love, 

And  may  be  a  pound  or  two  more. 
It's  all  very  well  to  have  riches, 

But  I'm  such  a  covetous  elf, 
I  can't  help  still  sighing  for  something, 

And,  darling,  that  something's  yourself. 
Mavourneen,  mavourneen  ! 
That  something,  you  know,  is  yourself. 


154  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 

You're  smiling,  and  that's  a  gfcod  sign,  darling, 

Say  "Yes,"  and  you'll  never  repent; 
Or  if  you  would  rather  be  silent, 

Your  silence  I'll  take  for  consent. 
That  good-natured  dimple's  a  tell-tale^ 

Now  all  that  I  have  is  your  own  ; 
This  week  you  may  be  Kitty  Tyrrell, 
Next  week  you'll  be  .Mistress  Malone. 
Mavourneen,  mavourneen  ! 
You'll  be  my  own  Mistress  Malone. 

Charles  Jeffer™. 


MOTHER,  HE'S  GOING  AWAY. 

Sure,  now,  what  are  you  crying  for,  Nelly, 

Don't  be  blubbering  there  like  a  fool, 
With  the  weight  of  the  grief,  faith,  I  tell  ye, 

You'll  break  down  the  three-legged  stool. 
I  suppose,  now,  you're  crying  for  Barney, 
But  don't  b'lieve  a  word  that  he'd  say; 
He  tells  nothing  but  big  lies  and  blarney, 

Sure,  you  know  he  sarved  poor  Kate  Kearney 
"  But,  mother  !"— "  Oh,  bother  !" 
"  But,  mother,  he's  going  away, 
And  I  dream'd  t'other  night, 
Of  his  ghost  all  in  white  ; 
Oh,  mother,  he's  going  away  !" 

If  he's  going  away  all  the  better, 

Blessed  hour  when  he's  out  of  your  sight, 
There's  one  comfort,  you  can't  get  a  letter,   • 

For  ye  neither  can  read  nor  can  write. 
Why,  'twas  only  last  week  you  protested, 

When  he  courted  fat  Biddy  Macrae, 
That  the  sight  of  the  scamp  you  detested, 
Wid  abuse,  sure,  your  tongue  never  rested. 
"  But,  mother  !"— "  Oh,  bother  !" 
"  But,  mother,  he's  going  away  ; 
And  I  dream'd  that  his  ghost 
Walk'd  round  my  bed-post; 
Oh,  mother,  he's  going  away  !" 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  155 


GROVES  OF  BLARNEY. 

The  groves  of  Blarney,  they  are  so  charming, 

Down  by  the  purling  of  sweet  silent  brooks ; 
'Tis  there's  the  daisy  spontaneous  growing, 

Planted  by  nature  all  in  the  rocky  nooks: 
'Tis  there's  the  posy,  call'd  the  sweet  carnation, 

The  blushing  pink,  and  the  rose  so  fair, 
Likewise  the  lily,  and  the  daffy-dilly, 

All  sweet  flowers  scenting  the  most  fragrant  air. 


There's  gravel  walks  there  for  meditation, 

And  contemplation,  all  in  sweet  solitude; 
'Tis  there's  the  lovyer,  may  meet  the  plovyer, 

Or  the  gentle  dove,  by  way  of  interlude. 
And  in  case  any  young  lady  be  so  engaging, 

Just  to  fetch  a  walk,  those  shady  bowers  around, 
Oh  !  'tis  there's  her  courtier,  might  transport  her, 

Into  some  dark  cavern^  all  down  under  the  ground. 

'Tis  there's  the  cave,  where  no  day-light  enters, 

Where  cats  and  badgers  are  forever  bred, 
Almost  by  nature,  which  makes  its  complature, 

Nor  a  coach  and  six,  nor  a  downy  bed. 
'Tis  there's  the  lake  is  well  stored  with  fishes, 

The  comely  eels  in  the  vardant  mud  that  stray, 
There's   them  trout   and   them   salmon,  playing   together  at 
back-gammon, 

But  if  you  try  to  catch  hold  of  them,  don't  they  all  imajuntly 
6wim  away  ? 

'Tis  there's  the  kitchen,  with  many  a  flitch  in, 

And  the  maids  a-stitehin'  before  the  door; 
There's  bread  and  biscay,  likewise  the  whiskey, 

"Which  would  make  you  friskey,  if  yourself  was  there. 
'Tis  there's  good  Kate  Whaley's  daughter,  Nelly, 

A-washing  praters  foment  the  door, 
Ould  Roger  Paly  and  Miss  Biddy  Kelly, 

All   blood   relations  of  that  entirely  great,  noble,  an^ 
Downed  family,  my  lord  Donoughmore. 


156  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 

There's  statuary  gracing  that  noble  place  in, 

All  heathen  goddesses  so  fair  ; 
Bold  Neptune,  Plutarch,  and  sweet  Nicoderaus, 

All  alive  and  naked,  out  in  the  cold  frosty  air. 
And  now  to  finish  this  brief  narration, 

Which  my  poor  genus  could  ne'er  divine, 
Oh  !  was  I  a  Homer,  or  even  Nebuchadnezzar, 

In  every  feature  I'd  make  it  for  to  shine. 


THE  DARLIN'  OULD  STICK. 

My  name  is  bold  Morgan  MacCarthy  from  Trim 

My  relations  all  died  except  one  brother  Jim; 

He's  gone  a  sojering  out  to  Cabool, 

I  dare  say  he's  laid  low  with  a  nick  in  his  skull. 
But  let  him  be  dead  or  be. living, 
A  prayer  for  his  corpse  I'll  be  giving, 
To  send  him  soon  home,  or  to  heaven, 
For  he  left  me  this  darlin'  ould  stick. 


If  that  stick  had  a  tongue  it  could  tell  you  some  tales, 
How  it  battered  the  countenances  of  the  O'Neills; 
It  made  bits  of  skulls  fly  about  in  the  air, 
And  it's  been  the  promoter  of  fun  at  each  fair 

For  I  swear  by  the  toe-nail  of  Moses, 

It  has  often  broke  bridges  of  noses, 

Of  the  faction  that  dare  to  oppose  us, 

It's  the  darlin'  kippeen  of  a  stick. 


The  last  time  I  used  it  'twas  on  Patrick's  day, 

Larry  Fegan  and  I  got  into  a  skilley, 

We  went  on  a  spree  to  the  fair  at  Athboy, 

Where  I  danced,  and,  when  done,  I  kissed  Kate  McEvoy. 

Then  her  sweetheart  went  out  for  her  cousin, 

And,  be  jabers  !  he  brought  in  a  dozen; 

A  doldhrum  they  would  have  knocked  us  in, 

If  I  hadn't  this  taste  of  a  stick. 


SONGS   Oi"   IRELAND.  157 

"  Ware,"  was  the  word,  when  the  faction  came  in, 
And  to  puniinice  us  well  they  peeled  off  in  their  skin, 
Like  a  Hercules  there  I  stood  for  the  attack, 
And  the  first  that  came  up  I  sent  down  on  his  back. 
Then  i  shoved  out  the  eve  of  Pat  (xlancy, 
For  he  once  humbugged  my  sister  Nancy, 
In  the  meantime  poor  Kate  took  a  fancy, 
To  myself  and  my  darlin'  ould  stick. 

I  smathered  her  sweetheart  until  he  was  black, 
She  then  tipped  me  the  wink,  we  were  off  in  a  crack, 
Wo  went  to  a  house  t'other  end  of  the  town, 
And  we  cheered  up  our  spirits  by  letting  some  down. 
When  I  got  her  snng  into  a  corner, 
And  the  whiskey  beginning  to  warm  her, 
She  said  her  sweetheart,  was  an  informer. 
Oh!  'twas  tli en  T  said  prayers  lor  my  stick. 

We  got  whiskificated  to  such  a  degree, 

For  support  my  poor  Kate  had  to  lean  ag'in  me. 

I  promised  to  see  her  safe  to  her  abode, 

By  the  'tarnal  we  fell  clean  in  the  mud  on  the  road. 

We  were  roused  by  the  magistrate's  order, 

Before  we  could  get  a  toe  further. 

Surrounded  by  peelers  for  murther, 

Was  myself  and  my  innocent  stick. 

When  the  trial  came  on,  Katy  swore  to  the  fact, 
That  before  I  set-too,  1  was  dacently  whack'd, 
And  the  judge  had  a  little  more  feeling  than  sense, 
He  said  what  I  done,  was  in  my  own  defence. 

But  one  chap  swore  agin  me,  named  Carey, 

(Though  that  night  he  was  in  Tipperary,) 

He'd  swear  a  coal-porter  was  a  canary, 

To  transport  both  myself  and  my  stick. 

When  I  was  acquitted  1  leaped  from  the  dock, 
And  all  the  gay  fellows  around  me  did  flock, 
I'd  a  pain  in  my  shoulders,  T  shook  hands  so  often, 
For  the  boys  all  imagined  I'd  fee  my  own  coffin. 
I  went  and  [  bought  a  gold  ring,  sirs, 
And  Kate  to  the  priest  I  did  bring,  sirs, 
So  next  night  you  come.  T  will  sing,  sirs, 
The  adventures  of  me  and  my  stick. 


158  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 


FLAMING  O'FLANNAGANS. 

A  Celebrated  Comic  Song,  sung  by  M.  J.  Pilgrim,  in  the  Drama  of  "  O'Flan- 
nagan  and  the  Fairies." 

Now  I'm  of  age  I'll  come  into  my  property, 

Devil  a  ha'porth  I'll  think  of  but  fun ; 
'Tis  myself  will  be  putting  the  ladies  in  papoury, 

Just  to  prove  I'm  my  daddy's  own  son. 
Och  now,  Mistress  Honey,  I'll  teach  ye  civility, 

Judy  O'Doole,  escape  if  you  can — 
I'm  the  boy  that  will  show  ye  the  sweets  of  gentility, 

Loving  most  women  and  fearing  no  man. 
Horroo !  wack  ! 
For  that  was  the  way  with  the  Flaming  O'Flannagans, 

From  the  first  illigant  boys  of  the  name. 
For  kissing  and  courting,  and  filling  the  can  again, 

Drinking  and  fighting  like  cocks  of  the  game. 
Horroo !  wack  ! 


The  tazing,  the  cursing,  the  shouting,  the  shooting, 

The  clattering  of  glasses,  the  beating  of  skulls, 
The  dancing  would  sure  be  upon  the  best  footing, 

Wid  Irish  Miss  Murphys,  and  English  Miss  Bulls. 
The  neat  little  party  you'd  like  to  see — 

The  loves  and  the  whisky,  and  the  devil  knows  what, 
And  the  dancers  that  we  whacked  black  and  blue  like  th# 
devil, 

And  the  spalpeens  we  floored  at  the  very  first  shot. 
Horroo !  wack  ! 


O'Brien  he  went  through  the  world,  without  lying, 

And  he  beat  the  Danes,  nine  score  of  them  flat, 
And  faix  after  that  the  Danes  beat  O'Brien, 

And  he  died  victorious,  muss  ha  more  flat  was  Pat. 
Ever  since  that  they've  been  devils  for  fighting, 

That  ever  was  fought  on  dry  land  or  ocean, 
If  blood  had  been  spilt  you'd  find  an  O'Flannagan, 

Either  beating  the  enemy  or  lying  stone  dead. 
Horroo !  wack  ! 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  159 


Encore  Verse. 


Do  you  see  how  I'm  laughed  at  by  all  those  queer  vagabones, 

Shouting  and  screaming  twice  as  loud  as  they  can  ; 
Paddy  Flynn,  I'll  go  bail,  I  give  you  a  sore  bag  o'  bones, 

If  you'd  only  come  here  and  turn  out  like  a  man. 
Do  ye's  think  I'll  stop  here  till  morning,  diverting  ye's, 

While  my  nate  jug  of  punch  is  cooling  outside? 
Good-night  boys,  you  know  I'm  sorry  from  parting  ye's, 

But  the  love  of  the  whisky  was  always  my  pride. 
Horroo !  wack  ! 


BACHELOR'S  HALL. 

Bachelor's  hall,  what  a  quare  looking  place  it  is, 

Kape  me  from  sich  all  the  days  of  my  life, 
Sure  but  I  think  what  a  burnin'  disgrace  it  is, 

Niver  at  all  to  be  gettin'  a  wife. 
See  the  ould  bachelor  gloomy  and  sad  enough, 

Placing  his  tay  kittle  over  the  fire; 
Soon  tips  it  over,  St.  Patrick,  he's  mad  enough, 

(If  he  were  present,)  to  fight  with  the  squire. 

Now  like  a  hog  in  a  mortar  bed  wallowing, 

Awkward  enough  see  him  knading  his  dough  5 
Troth  !   if  the  bread  he  could  ate  without  swallowing, 

How  he  would  favor  his  palate  you  know. 
Pots,  dishes,  pans,  and  sich  greasy  commodities, 

Ashes  and  prata  skins  kiver  the  floor  ; 
His  cupboard's  a  storehouse  of  comical  oddities, 

Things  that  had  niver  been  neighbors  before. 

His  nieal  being  over,  his  tables  left  sitting  so, 

Dishes  take  care  of  yourselves  if  you  can; 
But  hunger  returns,  then  he's  fuming  and  fretting  SO, 

Och  !  let  him  alone  for  a  baste  of  a  man. 
Late  in  the  night  when  he  goes  to  bed  shivering 

Niver  a  bit  is  the  bed  made  at  all ; 
He  crapes  like  a  tarapin  under  the  kiverin', 

Bad  luck  to  the  picture  of  bachelor's  hall. 


SU.NUS    OJ?    IRELAND. 

EXILE  OF  ERIN. 
There  came  to  the  beach  a  poor  Exile  of  Erin, 

The  dew  on  his  thin  robe  was  heavy  and  chill  ; 
For  his  country  lie  sighed,  when  at  twilight  repairing, 

To  wander  alone  by  the  wind  beaten  hill. 
But  the  day-star  attracted  his  eye's  sad  devotion, 
For  it  rose  o'er  his  own  native  isle  of  the  ocean, 
Where  once,  in  the  tire  of  his  youthful  emotion, 

He  sung  the  bold  anthem  of  Erin  go  bragh. 
Sad  is  my  fate  !  said  the  heart-brokerr  stranger, 

The  wild  deer  and  wolf  to  a  covert  can  flee  ; 
But  I  have  no  refuge  from  famine  and  danger, 

A  home  and  a  country  remain  not  to  me. 
Never  again  in  the  green  sunny  bowers, 
Where  my  forefathers  lived,  shall  I  spend  the  sweet  hours, 
Or  cover  my  harp  with  the  wild  woven  flowers, 

And  strike  to  the  numbers  of  Erin  go  bragh. 
Erin,  my  country,  though  sad  and  forsaken, 

In  dreams  I  revisit  thy  sea-beaten  shore  ) 
But  alas  !  in  a  far  foreign  land  I  awaken, 

And  sigh  for  the  friends  who  can  meet  me  no  more  I 
Oh  cruel  fate  !  will  thou  never  replace  me, 
In  a  mansion  of  peace — where  no  perils  can  chase  me  ? 
Never  again,  shall  my  brothers  embrace  me? 

They  died  to  defend  Hie,  or  lived  to  deplore. 
Where  is  my  cabin-door,  fast  by  the  wild  wood '( 

Sisters  and  sire  !  did  ye  weep  for  its  fall  ? 
Where  is  the  mother  that  looked  on  my  childhood  ? 

And  where  is  the  bosom  friend,  dearer  than  all  ? 
Oh  !  my  sad  heart !  long  abandoned  by  pleasure, 
Why  did  it  doat  on  a  fast  fading  treasure  ! 
Tears  like  the  rain  drop,  may  fall  without  measure1; 

But  rapture  and  beauty  they  cannot  recall. 
Yet  all  its  sad  recollection  suppressing, 

One  dying  wish  my  lone  bosom  can  draw, 
Erin  !  an  exile  bequeaths  thee  his  blessing! 

Land  of  my  forefathers  !  Erin  go  bragh  ! 
Buried' and  cold,  when  my  heart  stills  her  motion, 
Green  be  thy  fields — sweetest  isle  of  the  ocean  ! 
And  thy  harp  striking  bards  sing  aloud  with  devotion — 

Erin,  mavourneen ! — Erin  go  bragh  !  Campbell 


SONC.S    Ot    IRELAND.  161 

IRISH  WKDDIN 

Sure  won't  you  hear  what  roaring  cheer 

Was  spread  at  Paddy's  wedding,  0, 
And  how  so  gay  they  spent  the  clay, 

From  churching  to  the  bedding.  O? 
First,  book  in  hand,  came  father  Quipes, 

With  the  bride's  dada,  the  bailie,  0; 
While  all  the  way  to  church  the  pipes 

Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  0. 

Sing  Tudewack — imitating  bag-pipes. 

Then  there  was  Mat  and  sturdy  Pat, 

And  merry  Morgan  Murphy,  O, 
And  Murdock  Meggs,  and  Tirlongh  Sheggs, 

M'Lochlan,  and  Dick  Durfy,  0. 
And  then  the  girls  dressed  out  in  white, 

Led  on  by  Tad  O'Reilly,  O, 
All  jigging,  as  the  merry  pipes 

Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  0. 

When  Pat  was  asked  would  his  love  last  ? 

The  chancel  echoed  with  laughter,  O; 
Arrah  fait,  cried  Pat,  you  may  say  dat, 

To  the  end  of  the  world  and  after,  O. 
Then  tenderly  her  hand  he  gripes, 

And  kisses  her  genteelly,  0, 
While,  all  in  tune,  the  merry  pipes 

Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O. 

Now  a  roaring  set  at  dinner  are  met, 

So  frolicsome  and  so  frisky,  0, 
Potatoes  galore,  a  skirraig  or  more, 

And  a  flowing  madder  of  whiskey,  O ; 
To  the  bride's  dear  health  round  went  the  swipes 

That  her  joy  might  be  nightly  and  daily,  O, 
And  as  they  guttled,  the  merry  pipes 

Struck  up  a  lilt  fo  gaily.  0. 

And  then  at  night,  oh  !  what  delight, 
To  see  them  all  footing  and  prancing,  0, 

An  opera  or  ball  was  nothing  at  all, 

Compared  to  the  style  of  their  dancing,  0; 

n 


162  SONGS   OF   IRELAND. 

And  then  to  see  old  father  Quipes 

Beat  time  with  his  shillelagh,  0, 
While  the  chanter  with  his  merry  pipes, 

Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O. 

And  now  the  knot  so  tipsy  got, 

They'll  go  to  sleep  without  rocking,  0 ; 
So  the  bridemaids  fair  now  gravely  prepare 

For  throwing  of  the  stocking,  O ; 
And  round  to  be  sure  didn't  go  the  swipes 

At  the  bride's  expense  so  freely,  0, 
While  to  wish  them  good  night  the  merry  pipes 

Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O. 

YOU'RE  GOINO  TO  THE  WARS. 

A  PARODY  ON  JEANNETTE  AND  JEANNOT. 

As  sung  by  Barney  Williams  with  great  applause. 

You  are  going  to  the  wars  where  the  dirty  fighting's  done, 
Wid  your  knapsack  to  your  back,  and  your  shoulder  to  your 

gun; 
Oh,  you'll  dance  no  more  at  fairs,  nor  go  out  upon  a  spree, 
What's  worse  than  that,  my  Mickey,  you'll  be  forgetting  me : 
Wid  your  soger  coat  of  green,  when  you're  thramping  into 

town, 
You'll  break  the  hearts  of  all  the  gals,  and  turn  them  upside 

down; 
And  p'raps  you'll  marry  some  of  them,  and  if  you  do,  ye  see, 
By  the  powers  I'll  not  rest  in  bed,  but  its  murthering  you  I'll 

be. 

By  the  powers,  &c. 

When  the  drums  do  beat  the  charge,  you'U  be  dropping  on 

your  back, 
Like  they  do  in  Tipperary,  but  your  skull  will  show  no  crack; 
And  when  the  gineral  hears  of  it,  promoted  you  will  be, 
A  corporal  or  a  body  guard,  what  will  become  of  me  1 
If  I  were  queen  of  Meriky,  or  California's  king, 
I'd  have  no  guns  used  in  the  wars,  or  any  such  murthering 

thing ! 
All  the  'ventors  of  the  pistols,  I'd  transport  across  the  sea, 
And  I'd  kill  the  sogers  dacently,  Shelala's  gramachree. 
And  I'd  kill,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  163 


MOLLY  BAWN. 


Oh,  Molly  Bawn,  why  leave  me  pining, 

Or  lonely  waiting  here  for  you, 
While  the  stars  above  are  brightly  shining, 

Because  they've  nothing  else  to  do  ? 
The  flowers  late  were  open  keeping, 

To  try  a  rival  blush  with  you, 
But  their  mother,  Nature,  kept  them  sleeping, 

With  their  rosy  faces  washed  in  dew. 
Oh,  Molly,  &c. 
The  pretty  flowers  were  made  to  bloom,  dear, 

And  the  pretty  stars  were   made  to  shine; 
The  pretty  girls  were  made  for  boys,  dear, 

And  may  be  you  were  made  for  mine. 
The  wicked  watch-dog  here  is  snarling, — 

He  takes  me  for  a  thief,  d'ye  see  ? 
For  he  knows  I'd   steal  you,  Molly,  darling, 

And  then  transported  I  should  be. 
Oh,  Molly,  &c. 

THE  HARP  THAT  ONCE  THRO'  TARA'S  HALLS. 

Air — Gramachree. 

The  harp  that  once  thro'  Tara's  halls, 

The  soul  of  music  shed, 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls 

As  if.  that  soul  were  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er; 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise, 

Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more. 
No  more  to  chiefs  and  ladies  bright, 

The  harp  of  Tara  swells  ; 
The  chord  alone,  that  breaks  at  night, 

Its  tale  of  ruin  tells. 
Thus  freedom  now  so  seldom  wakes; 

The  only  throb  she  gi 
Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks, 

To  show  that  still  she  lives. 


164  SONGS   OP  IRELAND. 

SINCE  I'VE  BEEN  IN  THE  ARMY. 

A   NEW   AND    HIGHLY   POPULAR   SONG. 
Tune — The  second  part  of  WJia'll  be  King  but  Charlie  ? 

I'm  Paddy  Whack,  from  Bally-na-hack,  not  long  ago  turn'd 

§oldier, 
In  grand  attack,  in  storm  or  sack,  none  than  will  I  be  bolder; 
Wid  spirits  gay,  I  march  away,  I  plase  each  fair  beholder, 
The  ladies  cry,  as  me  they  spy,  Och  !  what  a  lovely  soldier  ! 
In  Londonderry,  or  London  merry,  ye  ladies  all,  I'll  charm  ye, 
An'  down  ye'll  come,  whin  I  bate  the  drum,  to  see  me  in  the 

army. 

The  refrain  is  usually  accompanied  by  the  drum. 
Chorus — 
Wid  my  rub-a-dub  dub,  row  dow  dow,  I  live  dear  girls  to 

charm  ye, 
An'  down  ye'll  come,  when  I  bate  the  drum,  to  see  me  in  the 

army. 

The  lots  of  girls,  my  train  unfurls,  would  make  a  dacent  party, 
There's  Katty  Lynch,  a  tidy  wench,  and  Peg  and  Sue  M'Carthy, 
There's  Sally  Magga,  and  Judy  Baggs,  and  Martha  Scraggs, 

all  storm  me  : 
And  Molly  Magee,  she's  after  me,  since  I've  been  in  the  army. 
The  Kitty's,  and  Dolly's,  the  Bridget's,  and  Polly's,  in  num- 
bers would  alarm  ye, 
Even  Mrs.  White,  that's  lost  her  sight,  admires  me  in  the  army. 

The  roaring  boys,  that  made  a  noise,  and  whack'd  me  like  the 

divil, 
Are  now  become,  before  me  dumb,  or  else  they're  mighty  civil, 
There's  Murphy  Rourke,  that  often  broke  my  head,  now  dars'nt 

dare  me, 
But  bows  an'  scrapes,  and  off  he  sneaks,  since  I've  been  in  the 

army, 
An,  if  one  neglect,  to  pay  me  respect,  another  tips  the  blarney, 
Wid  whist,  my  friend,  and  don't  offend,  a  gintleman  in  the 

army. 


SONGS    OF   IRELAND.  165 

My  arms  are  bright,  my  heart  is  light,  good  humour  seems  to 

warm  me, 
I'm  now  become,  wid  every  ehum,  a  favorite  in  the  army. 
If  I  go  on,  as  I've  begun,  my  comrades  all  inform  me, 
They  plainly  see,  that  I  shall  be  a  Gineral  in  the  army. 
Delightful  notion,  to  get  promotion,  ye  ladies  thin  I'll  charm  ye, 
For  its  my  belief,  commander-in-chief  I  soon  shall  be  in  the 

army. 
With  my  rub-a-dub,  &c. 

LARKY  O'BRIAX. 

As   sung   by  Dick  Cunningham. 
I'VE  just  newly  returned  from  the  ocean, 
"Where  the  blood  and  thunder  balls  were  in  motion, 
Sure  for  fighting,  then,  I  never  had  a  notion. 

It  would  never  do  for  Larry  0' Brian. 
I  could  box  along  the  shore,  like  a  great  many  more, 
And  the  spalpeens,  by  my  soul  I'd  knock  down  a  half  a  score 
But  I  never  thought  it  clever, 
For  the  balls  to  knock  the  liver, 

Out  of  Larry — Larry  ! 
Blood  and  thunder  to  the  gabie  that  would  tarry, 
It  would  never  do  for  Larry  O'Brian. 

I  was  so  tight  that  none  could  come  near  me, 
And  for  wit  I'll  engage  few  could  scare  me, 
A-nd  for  boxing  you  need  all  to  fear  me, 

So  smart  was  Larry  OBrian, 
So  tight  and  so  free,  when  I  first  went  to  sea, 
Who  the  divil  should  they  put  into  office  but  me  ! 
And  with  my  raker,  and  my  scraper, 
Bloody  nouns  they  made  a  sweeper, 

Out  of  Larry — Larry,  &C 

A  dirty  little  middy  of  a  milksop, 
He  ordered  me  up  to  the  maintop, 
Sure  my  head  spun  around  like  a  whip  top, 

It  would  never  do  for  Larry  O'Brian. 
The  sailors  up  aloft,  they  sent  down  a  rope, 
They  tied  it  round  my  belly  and  hauled  me  up, 
I  kept  bawlinir,  I  kept  squawling, 
But  the  rascals  all  kept  hauling, 

Up  young  Larry,  &c. 


166  SONGS   OP   IRELAND. 


The  next  thing  they  all  went  to  fighting 
That's  a  dirty  trick. I  never  took  delight  in, 
And  I'm  sure  you  will  all  think  me  right  in, 

Securing  of  Larry  O'Brian. 
For  the  powder  and  the  shot,  and  the  halls  flew  so  hoi, 
With  their  hubbubaboo  and  dad  sans  culotte, 
And  with  their  funning,  and  their  gunning, 
By  my  soul  I  set  off  running, 

With  Larry — Larry,  &c. 

While  this  hubbubaboo  they  were  making, 
In  the  hold  I  lay  shivering  and  shaking, 
Until  I  heard  that  the  French  ship  was  taken, 

Then  out  popped  Larry  O'Brian. 
There  I  saw  a  man  dead,  lying  down  without  his  head, 
By  my  soul,  said  I,  my  lad,  you  had  better  been  in  bed, 
Than  delighting  in  such  fighting, 
Which  I  thought  no  ways  inviting, 

With  your  Larry — Larry,  &c. 

Then  the  captain  gave  orders  for  sailing, 
But  the  sides  of  our  ship  wanted  nailing, 
Then  all  hands  fell  to  pumping  and  bailing, 

That  was  labor  for  Larry  O'Brian. 
With  their  hammers  and  their  knocks, 
And  their  mighty  heavy  blocks, 

She  looked  for  all  the  world  like  the  devil  in  the  stocks, 
Wid  their  oakum,  devil  choke'um, 
And  they  wished  for  to  pok,e'um 

On  young  Larry,  &c. 

I  got  rid  of  the  captain  and  sailors, 
Bid  adieu  to  the  caulkers  and  bailers, 
By  my  soul  I'll  apply  to  the  tailor's, 

To  rig  up  young  Larry  O'Brian. 
I've  escaped  free  from  wounds, 
And  now  by  blood  an'  ouos, 

I'll  marry  some  plump  widow  wid  her  twenty  thousand  pounds. 
I'll  implore  her — I'll  adore  her, 
And  shall  sail  through  life  ashore,  sir, 

With  young  Larry,  &c. 


SONGS    OF   IRELAND.  167 

LOW  BACKED  CAR. 

When  first  I  saw  sweet  Peggy, 

'Twas  on  a  market  day, 
On  a  low  backed  car  she  drove,  and  sat 

Upon  a  truss  of  hay. 
But  when  that  hay  was  blooming  grass, 

And  decked  with  flowers  of  spring, 
No  flowers  were  there  that  could  compare 
With  the  charming  girl  I  sing. 
As  she  sat  in  her  low  backed  car, 
The  man  at  the  turnpike  bar, 
Good  natured  soul ! 
Never  asked  for  his  toll, 
But  looked  after  the  low  backed  car. 

In  battle's  wild  commotion, 

The  proud  and  mighty  Mars, 
With  hostile  scythes,  demands  his  tythes 

Of  death  in  warlike  scars  ; 
But  Peggy,  peaceful  goddess, 

Has  darts  in  her  bright  eye, 
That  knock  men  down,  in  the  market  town, 

As  right  and  left  they  fly, 
As  she  sits  in  that  low  back'd  car, 
The  battle  more  dangerous  far, 

For  the  Doctor's  heart, 

Cannot  heal  the  smart. 
That  is  hit  from  the  low  back'd  car. 

Sweet  Peggy  round  her  car,  sirs, 

Has  strings  of- ducks  and  geese, 
But  the  scores  of  hearts  she  slaughters 

By  far  outnumbers  these — 
While  she  among  her  poultry  sits 

Just  like  a  turtle  dove, 
Well  worth  a  cage,  I  do  engage, 

With  the  blooming  God  of  Love. 
As  she  sat  in  her  low  back'd  car, 
The  lovers  came  near  and  far, 

And  envy  the  chicken 

That  Peggy  is  picking, 
As  she  sits  in  her  low  back'd  car. 


168  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 

I'd  rather  own  that  car,  sirs, 

With  Peggy  by  my  side, 
Than  a  coach  and  four,  and  gold  galore, 

And  a  lady  for  my  bride. 
For  a  lady  would  sit  forninst  me 

On  a  cushion  made  with  taste, 
While  Peggy  would  sit  beside  me, 

With  my  arm  around  her  waist. 
As  we  rode  in  the  low  back'd  car, 
To  be  married  by  Father  Meaghar, 

Oh,  my  heart  would  beat  high, 

At  each  glance  of  her  eye, 
As  we  rode  in  that  low  back'd  car. 

BRYAN  O'LINN. 

PATHETIC   QUARTETTE. 

Musha  Bryan  O'Linn  had  no  breeches  to  wear, 
So  he  got  him  a  shapeskin  to  make  him  a  pair, 
Wid  de  skinny  side  out  an'  the  hairy  side  in, 
Faix  they're  good  for  the  winter,  says  Bryan  O'Linn. 
Chorus. — Patchooly  alana  coppeen  a  budhoo, 

Potien  galore  avick  sha  ma  grin  dhu, 
Strahawbed  a  oumadawn  kippen  traheen, 
Musha  Ballysloughguttery  keogh  smithereen. 

Oh  thin  Bryan  O'Linn  had  no  watch  to  put  on, 
So  he  got  him  a  turnip  to  make  him  a  wan, 
He  cotch  an  ould  cricket  an'  put  it  therein, 
Sure  they'll  think  it's  a  ticking,  says  Bryan  O'Linn. 
Chorus. — Patchooly  alana  coppeen  a  budhoo, 

Potien  galore  avick  sha  ma  grin  dhu, 
Strahawbed  a  oumadawn  kippen  traheen, 
Musha  Ballysloughguttery  keogh  smithereen. 

Bryan  O'Linn,  his  wife,  an'  his  mudder, 
They  all  crossed  over  the  ould  bridge  togedder ; 
Troth,  the  bridge  bruk  down,  an'  they  all  tumbled  in, 
We'll  find  ground  at  the  bottom,  says  Bryan  O'Linn. 
Chorus. — Patchooly  alana  coppeen  a  budhoo, 

Potien  galore  avick  sha  ma  grin  dhu, 
Strahawbed  a  oumadawn  kippen  traheen, 
Musha  Ballysloughguttery  keogh  smithereen. 


SONGS    OF    IRELAND.  10* 


CROOS-KEEN   LAWN. 

Let  the  farmer  praise  his  grounds, 
As  the  huntsman  does  hi<  hounds, 

And  the  shepherd  his  sweet-scented  lawn  ; 
While  I  more  blest  than  they. 
Spend  each  happy  night  and  day 

With  my  smiling  little  croos-keen  lawn,  lawn,  lawn. 

Oh,  my  smiling  little  croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma  croos-keen 
Sleante  gar  ma  voor  meh  neen 
Argus  gramachree  ma  cooleen  ban,  ban,  ban, 
Argus  gramachree  ma  coolen  ban. 

In  court  with  manly  grace, 
Should  Sir  Toby  plead  his  case, 

And  the  merits  of  his  cause  make  known  ; 
Without  his  cheerful  glass 
He'd  be  stupid  as  an  ass, 

So  he  takes  a  little  croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma,  &c. 

Then  fill  your  glasses  high, 
Let's  not  part  with  lips  so  dry, 

Though  the  lark  should  proclaim  it  dawn  $ 
But  if  we  can't  remain, 
May  -we  shortly  meet  again, 

To  fill  another  croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma,  &c. 

And  when  grim  death  appears, 
After  few  but  happy  years, 

And  tells  me  n,y  glass  it  is  run, 
I'll  say,  Begone  yon  slave, 
For  great  Bacel  -  me  lave 

Just  to  fill  another  eroos-keen  lawn. 
.  &c. 


170  SONGS   OF   IRELAND. 

AXGEL'S  WHISPER. 

A  baby  was  sleeping, 

Its  mother  was  weeping, 
For  her  husband  was  far  on  the  wide  raging  sea, 

And  the  tempest  was  swelling 

'Round  the  fisherman's  dwelling, 
And  she  cried,  u  Dermont,  darling,  oh,  come  back  to  me  I" 

Her  beads  while  she  num.ber'd, 

The  baby  still  slumber'd, 
And  smiled  in  her  face  as  she  bended  her  knee  : 

"Oh!  bless'd  be  that  warning, 

My  child,  thy  sleep  adorning, 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  to  thee." 

"  And  while  they  are  keeping 

Bright  watch  o'er  thy  sleeping, 
Oh,  pray  to  them  softly,  my  baby,  with  me ; 

And  say  thou  wouldst  rather 

They'd  watch  o'er  thy  father, 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  to  thee." 

The  dawn  of  the  morning 

Saw  Dermont  returning, 
And  the  wife  wept  with  joy  her  babe's  father  to  see; 

And  closely  caressing, 

Her  babe  with  a  blessing 
Said,  u  I  knew  that  the  angels  were  whispering  to  thee." 

Samuel  Lover. 

THE  IRISH  LOYE  LETTER. 

Och  !  Judy,  dear  creature,  she  has  won  my  sowl, 

The  thoughts  of  her  eyes  puts  my  heart  in  a  filliloo; 
By  the  side  of  my  donkey  I  lay  cheek-by -jowl, 

On  a  sheet  of  brown  paper  to  write  her  a  billy-doo. 
I  had  no  pen,  so  made  shift ^with  a  skewer, 

And  thus  I  began  all  ray  mind  to  reveal : — 
Och,  Judy,  says  I,  I've  a  mind  to  be  sure, 

That  you  should  become  lovely  Mistress  O'Neal. 
Whack  fal  lal  lal,  fal  de  ral,  whack  fal  lal. 
Whack  fal  lal  lal,  &c. 


SONGS   OF   IRELAND.  171 

My  father's  a  seampstress,  makes  clothes  for  the  army, 

My  mother's  a  coalman  on  -rear  Dublin  quays, 
And  if  you  were  with  us  I'm  sure  it  would  charm  ye, 

To  sec  all  out  dacent  and  illigant  ways. 
Each  day  for  dinner  we've  a  herring  or  a  salmon — 

"We  eat  our  potaties  without  any  peel  ! 
And  so  you  may,  Judy,  without  any  gammon, 

If  you  will  but  become  lovely  Mistress  O'Neal. 
Whack,  &c. 

SAYOURNEEN  DEELISH. 

Sung  by  Miss  Hughes. 

Oh,  the  moment  was  sad  when  my  love  and  I  parted, 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg  ! 
As  I  kiss'd  off  her  tears  I  was  nigh  broken  hearted, 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg  ! 
Wan  was  her  cheek,  which  hung  on  my  shoulder, 
Damp  was  her  hand,  no  marble  was  colder, 
I  felt  in  my  heart  I  ne'er  more  should  behold  her, 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg  ! 
Long  I  fought  for  my  country,  far,  far  from  my  true  love, 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg. 
All  my  pay  and  my  booty  I  hoarded  for  you,  love, 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg  ! 
Peace  was  proclaim'd — escaped  from  the  slaughter, 
Landed  at  home,  my  sweet  girl !  I  sought  her, 
But  sorrow,  alas  !  to  the  cold  grave  had  brought  her. 

Savourneen  deelish  eileen  ogg  ! 

ERIN  MAVOURNEEN. 

When  the  pure  sense  of  honour  shall  cease  to  inspire  thee, 

And  kind  hospitality  leaves  thy  gay  shore; 
When  the  nations  that  know  thee,  no  longer  admire  thee, 

Then,  Erin  mavourneen,  I'll  love  thee  no  more. 
When  the  trumpet  of  Fame  shall  cease  to  proclaim  thee, 

Of  warriors  the  nurse,  in  the  ages  of  yore  ; 
When  the  muse,  and  the  record  of  genius  disclaim  thee, 

Then,  Erin  mavourneen,  I'll  love  thee  no  more. 
When  thy  brave  sons  no  longer  are  generous  and  witty, 

And  cease  to  be  lov'd  by  tin;  fair  they  adore; 
When  thy  daughters  no  loDger  arc  virtuous  and  pretty, 

Then,  Erin  mavourneen,  I'll  love  thee  no  more. 


172  SONGS   OP   IRELAND. 

TEDDY  O'NEAL. 

IRISH    BALLAD. 

I've  come  to  the  cabin  he  danced  his  wild  jig  in, 

As  nate  a  mud  palace  as  ever  was  seen, 
Considering  it  sarved  to  keep  poultry  and  pigs  in; 

I'm  sure  it  was  always  most  iligant  clane. 
But  now  all  about  it  seems  lonely  and  dreary, 

Sad,  and  all  lonely,  no  piper,  no  reel, 
Not  even  the  sun  through  the  casement  is  cheery, 

Since  I  lost  that  dear  darlint  boy,  Teddy  O'Neal, 

Since  I  lost  that  dear  darlint  boy,  Teddy  O'Neal. 

I  dreamt  but  last  night,  an'  bad  luck  to  my  dreaming, 
I'd  die  if  I  thought  it  was  surely  to  pass — 

I  dreamt,  while  my  tears  down  the  pillow  was  streaming, 
That  Teddy  was  coorting  another  fair  lass. 

Och !  didn't  I  wake  with  weeping  and  wailing, 
The  thought  of  the  grief  was  too  deep  to  conceal, 

My  mother  cries,  Norah,  child,  what  is  your  ailing? 
But  all  I  could  utter  was  Teddy  O'Neal, 
But  all  I  could  utter  was  Teddy  O'Neal. 

I'll  never  forget  when  the  big  ship  was  ready, 

And  the  moment  had  come  for  my  love  to  depart, 

I  cried  like  a  spalpeen,  Grood  bye  to  you,  Teddy, 
With  drops  on  my  cheek,  an'  a  stone  at  my  heart. 

Says  he,  'Tis  to  better  my  fortune  I'm  roaming; 
But  what  would  be  gold  to  the  joy  I  should  feel, 

If  he  only  comes  back  to  me  honest  an'  loving, 
Still  poor,  but  my  own  darling  Teddy  O'Neal, 
Still  poor,  but  my  own  darling  Teddy  O'Neal. 


THE  IRISHMAN'S  SHANTY. 

Copied  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  publishers,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

Did  ye's  ever  go  in  'till  an  Irishman's  shanty  ? 
Och  !  b'ys  that's  the  place  where  the  whiskey  is  plenty; 
With  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  there  sits  Paddy  so  free, 
No  king  in  his  palace  is  .prouder  than  he  ! 

Arrah  !  me  honey  !  w-h-a-c-k  !  Paddy's  the  boy. 


SOS    OF    OLE  LAND.  173 

There's  a  three-legged  stool,  with  a  table  to  match, 
And  the  door  o\'  the  Bhanty  is  looked  with  a  latch, 
There's  a  nate  feather  mat  trass  all  bus  tin'  with  straw, 

Tor  want  of  a  bedstead,  it  lies  on  the  floor. 
Arrah  !  me  honey  !  &c. 

There's  a  snug  little  bureau  without  paint  or  gilt, 
Made  of  boords  that  was  left  when  the  shanty  was  built; 
There's  a  three-cornered  mirror  hangs  up  on  the  wall, 
The  divil  a  lace  has  beeu  in  it  at  all. 
Arrah  !  me  honey  !  kc. 

He  has  pigs  in  the  sty,  and  a  cow  in  the  stable, 
And  he  feeds  them  on  scraps  that  is  left  from  the  table; 
They'd  starve  if  confined,  so  they  roam  at  their  aise, 
And  come  into  the  shanty  whinever  they  plaise. 
Arrah!  me  honey  !  &c. 

He  has  three  rooms  in  oue — kitchen,  bedroom,  and  hall; 
And  his  chist  it  is  three  wooden  pegs  in  the  wall ; 
Two  suits  of  owld  clothes  makes  his  wardrobe  complete, 
One  to  wear  in  the  shanty,  that  same  for  the  street. 
Arrah!  me  honey!  &c. 

He  can  relish  good  victuals  as  ever  ye's  ate, 
But  is  always  contented  with  praties  and  mate; 
He  prefers  them  when  cold  if  he  can't  get  them  hot, 
And  makes  tea  in  a  bowl  when  he  can't  get  a  pot. 
Arrah  !  me  honey  !  oic. 

There  is  one  who  partakes  of  his  sorrows  and  joys, 
Attends  to  the  shanty,  the  girls  and  the  boys, 
The  brats  he  thinks  more  of  than  gold  that's  refined, 
But  Biddy's  the  jewel  that's  set  in  his  mind. 
Arrah  !  me  honey  !  iv_c. 

The  rich  may  divide  their  enjoyment  alone 
With  those  who  have  riches  as  great  as  their  own, 
But  Pat  hangs  the  latch-string  outside  of  his  door, 
And  will  share  his  last  cent  with  the  needy  and  poor. 
Arrah  !  me  honey  !  &c) 


174  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 

THE  BOWLD  SOJER  BOY. 

Oh,  there's  not  a  trade  that's  going, 
Worth  showing  or  knowing, 
Like  that  from  glory  growing, 

For  a  bowld  sojer  boy  ! 
Where  right  or  left  we  go, 
Sure  you  know,  friend  or  foe, 
Will  have  the  hand  or  toe, 

From  the  bowld  sojer  boy. 
There's  not  a  town  we  march  thro/ 
But  ladies  looking  arch  thro' 
The  window  panes,  will  sarch  thro' 
The  ranks  to  find  their  joy. 
While  up  the  street,  each  girl  you  meet, 
With  look  so  sly,  will  cry  "  My  eye, 
Oh,  isn't  he  a  darling,  the  bowld  sojer  boy !" 

But  when  we  get  the  rout, 
How  they  pout  and  they  shout ! 
While  to  the  right  about, 

Goes  the  bowld  sojer  boy. 
'Tis  then  that  ladies  fair, 
In  despair  tear  their  hair, 
But  the  divil  a  one  I  care, 

Says  the  bowld  sojer  boy. 
For  the  world  is  all  before  us, 
Where  the  landladies  adore  us, 
And  ne'er  refuse  to  score  us, 
But  chalk  us  up  with  joy. 
We  taste  her  tap,  we  tear  her  cap, 
"  Oh,  that's  the  chap  for  me,"  says  she, 
"  Oh,  isn't  he  a  darling,  the  bowld  sojer  bov  iw 

Then  come  along  with  me, 
Gramachree,  and  you'll  see, 
How  happy  you  will  be, 

With  your  bowld  sojer  boy. 
Faith  if  you're  up  to  fun, 
With  me  run,  'twill  be  done, 
In  the  snapping  of  a  gun, 

Says  the  bowld  sojer  boy. 


BONOS   OF    [JEU  LAND.  175 

And  'tis  then  that  without  scandal, 

Myself  would  proudly  dandle 

The  little  farthing  candle 
Of  our  mutual  love,  my  joy. 
May  his  light  shine,  as  bright  as  mine, 
Till  in  the  line  he'll  blaze  and  raise 
The  glory  of  his  corps,  like  a  bowld  sojer  boy. 

TERENCE'S  FAREWELL. 

So,  my  Kathleen,  you're  going  to  leave  me, 

All  alone  by  myself  in  this  place; 
But  I'm  sure  you'll  never  deceive  me, 

0  no,  if  there's  truth  in  that  face. 
Though  England's  a  beautiful  city, 

Full  of  illigant  boys,  0  what  then! 
You  wouldn't  forget  your  poor  Terence, 

You'll  come  back  to  old  Ireland  again. 
Och,  those  English  deceivers  by  nature, 

Though  may  be  you'd  think  them  sincere, 
They'll  say  you're  a  sweet  charming  creature, 

But  don't  you  believe  them,  my  dear; 
No  Kathleen,  agra,  don't  be  minding 

The  flattering  speeches  they'd  make; 
Just  tell  them  a  poor  lad  in  Ireland 

Is  breaking  his  heart  for  your  sake. 
It's  a  folly  to  keep  you  from  going, 

Though,  faith,  it's  a  mighty  hard  case, 
For,  Kathleen,  you  know,  there's  no  knowing 

When  next  I  shall  see  your  swate  face; 
And  when  you  come  back  to  me,  Kathleen, 

None  the  better  will  I  be  off  then  ; 
You'd  be  Bpaking  such  beautiful  English. 

Sure  I  won't  know  my  Kathleen  again. 

Aye  now,  where's  the  need  of  this  hurry? 

Don't  flusther  me  so  in  this  way; 
I  forgot,  'twixt  the  grief  and  the  flurry, 

Every  word  I  was  maning  to  say. 
Now  just  wnit  a  minute,  I  bid  ye ; 

Can  I  talk  if  ye  bother  me  so  ? 
Oh,  Kathleen,  my  blessings  go  wid  ye, 

Every  inch  of  the  way  that  you  go. 


176  SONGS    OF    IRELAND. 


THE  FOUR  LEAVED  SHAMROCK, 
I'll  seek  a  four  leaved  shamrock 

In  all  the  fairy  dells, 
And  if  I  find  the  charmed  leaf, 

Oh,  how  I'll  work  my  spells  ! 
I  would  not  waste  my  magic  might 

On  diamond,  pearl,  or  gold, 
For  treasure  tires  the  weary  sense — 

Such  triumph  is  but  cold ; 
But  I  will  play  the  enchanter's  part, 

In  casting  bliss  around  ; 
Oh,  not  a  tear,  nor  aching  heart, 

Should  in  the  world  be  found. 
To  worth  I  would  give  honor, 

I'd  dry  the  mourner's  tears, 
And  to  the  pallid  lip  recall 

The  smile  of  happier  years; 
And  hearts  that  had  been  long  estranged, 

And  friends  that  had  grown  cold, 
Should  meet  again  like  parted  streams, 

And  mingle  as  of  old. 
Oh,  thus  I'd  play,  &c. 
The  heart  that  had  been  mourning 

O'er  vanished  dreams  of  love, 
Should  see  them  all  returning, 

Like  Noah's  faithful  dove. 
And  hope  should  launch  her  blessed  bark, 

On  Sorrow's  darkening  sea; 
And  Misery's  children  have  an  ark, 

And  saved  from  sinking  be. 
Oh,  thus  I'd  play,  &c. 


SONGS  OF   SCOTLAND. 


OH !  WHY  LEFT  I  MY  HAME. 

AN    ANCIENT    SCOTCH    BALLAD. 
Sung  by  Miss  Agnes  Robertson,  in  the  drama  of  Jessie  Brown. 

Oh  !  why  left  I  my  hame  ? 

Why  did  I  cross  the  deep  ? 
Oh  !  why  left  I  the  land 

Where  my  forefathers  sleep  ? 
I  sigh  for  Scotia's  shore, 

And  I  gaze  across  the  sea, 
But  I  canna  get  a  blink 

Of  my  ain  countrie. 
The  palm  trees  waving  high, 

And  fair  the  myrtle  springs, 
And  to  the  Indian  maid, 

The  bulLnl*  sweetly  sings; 
But  I  dinna  see  the  broom, 

Wi'  its  tassels  on  the  lea, 
Nor  hear  the  lin tie's  sang, 

Of  my  ain  countrie. 
Oh  !  here,  no  Sabbath  bell 

Awakes  the  Sabbath  morn 
Xor  song  of  reapers  heard 

Araang  the  yellow  corn. 

•  The  Nightingale. 
x2  (177) 


178  SONGS   OF   SCOTLAND. 

For  the  tyrant's  voice  is  here, 

And  the  wail  of  slavery, 
But  the  sun  of  Freedom  shines, 

In  my  ain  countrie. 

There's  a  hope  for  ev'ry  wo, 

And  a  balm  for  ev'ry  pain, 
And  the  first  joys  of  our  heart 

Come  never  back  again. 
There's  a  track  upon  the  deep, 

And  a  path  across  the  sea, 
But  the  weary  ne'er  return 

To  their  ain  countrie. 

Robert  Gilfillan. 

ANNIE  LAURIE. 

Maxwelton's  braes  are  bonnie, 

Where  early  falls  the  dew, 
'Twas  there  that  Annie  Laurie 

Gave  me  her  promise  true, 

Gave  me  her  promise  true, 

Which  ne'er  forgot  can  be, 
But  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee. 

Her  brow  is  like  the  snow-drift, 

Her  throat  is  like  the  swan, 
Her  face  it  is  the  fairest, 

That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on, 

That  e'er  the  sun  shone  on, 

And  dark  blue  is  her  e'e, 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie 

I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee. 
Like  dew  on  gowans  lying, 

Is  the  fall  of  her  fairy  feet, 
And  like  winds  in  summer  sighing. 

Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet, 

Her  voice  is  low  and  sweet, 
And  she's  a'  the  world  to  me, 
And  for  bonnie  Annie  Laurie, 

I'd  lay  me  down  and  dee. 
Her  voif  e  is  low  and  sweet,  &c. 


a) 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  179 

ANNIE  OF  THE  LAUNDRY. 

A  POPULAR  PARODY  ON  "  ANNIE  LAURIE." 

Max  Mutton's  beef  is  boney, 

in  a  fry  or  stew, 
There  Annie  of  the  Laundry, 

Gave  me  an  oyster  stew. 
She  treated  to  a  stew, 

And  three  cents  worth  of  cheese, 
And  for  Annie  of  the  Laundry, 

I'd  crawl  upon  my  knees. 

Her  eye  is  like  the  snow  ball, 

Her  voice  like  "  the  Black  Sican," 
Her  foot  it  is  the  flattest, 

That  e'er  a  shin  stood  on, 
That  e'er  a  shin  stood  on, 

And  her  hoops  spread  nine  degrees, 
And  for  Annie  of  the  Laundry, 

I'd  crawl  upon  my  knees. 

THE  SCOTCH  LAD'S  SONG  IN  AMERICA. 

SUNG    AT    SCOTTISH   CELEBRATIONS,    &C,    &C. 
Tune—  Wha'll  be  Kiiuj  but  Charlie? 

Frae  Scotland's  highland  hills  I  came, 

My  name  is  Donald  Caird,  man, 
To  reach  this  bonnie  land  of  fame 

I  mony  dangers  dared,  man. 
The  stormy  ocean's  angry  foam, 

Wi1  highland  pride  I  bore,  man, 
Cheer'd  by  the  name  of  Freedom's  home, 

The  bonnie  Yankee  shore,  man. 

Whea  first  I  trod  her  happy  shore, 

How  proud  was  I  to  meet,  man, 
The  laddies  wha  in  days  of  yore, 

Made  freedom's  foes  retreat,  man  ! 
Whar  welcome  as  their  native  spring 

Is  ilka  stranger  o'er,  m;m, 
To  a  land  whar  ev'ry  roan's  a  king, 

The  bonnie  Yankee  shore,  man. 


♦ 


180  SONGS    OF   SCOTLAND. 

Here  Plenty's  overflowing  horn 

Drives  ilka  want  awa,  man, 
And  Equal  Rights  her  laws  adorn, 

More  dear  to  men  than  a',  man. 
The  road  is  free  frae  sea  to  sea, 

To  honor,  wealth,  and  lore,  man, 
And  who  can't  live,  is  free  to  die, 

Upon  the  Yankee  shore,  man. 

Success  to  Freedom's  happy  land, 

May  virtue  rear  her  high,  man, 
And  may  our  laddies,  hand  in  hand, 

Wild  anarchy  defy,  man. 
In  peace,  and  progress  may  they  glide, 

Wi'  liberty  in  store,  man, 
When  nations  fall,  be  last  of  all, 

The  bonnie  Yankee  shore,  man. 


THE  BONNET,  THE  FEATHER,  AND  CLAYMORE. 

Hurrah  for  the  lad  that  with  heart  and  with  hand, 
Will  fight  for  his  country,  his  home,  and  his  land, 
And  who  for  her  freedom  will  gallantly  stand, 

With  his  bonnet,  and  feather,  and  claymore  ! 
His  brows  will  I  deck  wi'  the  bold  eagle's  wing, 
And  the  tartan  around  his  braw  shoulders  Fll  fling, 
And  the  name  o'  my  soldier  in  rapture  Fll  sing, 

With  his  bounet,  and  feather,  and  claymore. 
Hurrah  for  the  lad,  &c. 

The  Tradesman  gives  clothes,  an'  the  Farmer  gives  food, 
And  the  Statesman  he  toils  for  his  country's  gude, 
But  the  Soldier  defends  all  their  rights  with  his  blude. 

His  bonnet,  and  feather,  and  claymore  ! 
And  when  the  war-drum  of  the  foe  rattles  nigh, 
His  heart  like  his  banner  goes  fluttering  high, 
For  country  and  freedom  to  conquer  or  die, 

With  his  bonnet,  and  feather,  and  claymore. 
*.     Hurrah  for  the  lad,  &c. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 


SONGS  OF  SCOTLAND.  181 

ALL  THE  BLUE  BONNETS  ARE  OVER  THE 
BORDER. 

March,  inarch,  Ettrick  and  Teviotdalc ! 

Why,  my  lads,  dinna  ye  inarch  forward  in  order? 
March,  march,  Eskdale  and  Liddesdale ! 
All  the  blue  bonnets  are  over  the  border. 
Many  a  banner  spread, 
Flutters  above  your  head, 
Many  a  crest  that  is  famous  in  story; 
Mount,  and  make  ready,  then, 
Sons  of  the  mountain-glen, 
Fight  for  your  king,  and  the  old  Scottish  border. 

March,  march,  Ettrick,  &c. 
Come  from  the  hills  where  your  hirsels  are  grazing, 

Come  from  the  glens  of  the  buck  and  the  roe, 
Come  to  the  crag  where  the  beacon  is  blazing, 
Come  with  the  buckler,  the  lance,  and  the  bow. 
Trumpets  are  sounding, 
"War  steeds  are  bounding, 
Stand  to  your  arms  and  march  in  good  order; 
England  shall  many  a  day, 
Tell  of  the  bloody  fray, 
When  the  blue  bonnets  came  over  the  border. 
March,  march,  Ettrick,  &c. 


MY  BONNIE  LASS,  NOW  TURN  TO  ME. 

Tune.— "  Wha'U  be  King  but  Cliarlie  !" 

My  bonnie  lass,  now  turn  to  me, 
And  gie  a  smile  to  cheer  me, 
An  honest  heart  I'll  gie  to  thee, 
For  in  truth  I  love  thee  dearly. 

Come,  o'er  the  heather  we'll  trip  together, 

All  in  the  morning  early, 
With  heart  and  hand,  I'll  by  thee  stand, 

For  in  truth  I  love  thee  dearly. 
Come,  o'er  the  heather  we'll  trip  together, 
I  heed  neither  mother,  nor  lather,  nor  brother, 
With  heart  and  band,  I'll  by  thee  stand,       ^ 
For  in  truth  T  love  thee  dearly. 


182  SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND. 

There's  many  a  lass  I  love  full  well, 

And  many  who  love  me  dearly, 
But  there's  ne'er  a  one,  except  thysel', 

That  I  e'er  could  love  sincerely. 

Come  o'er  the  heather,  &c. 

A  MAN'S  A  MAX  FOR  A'  THAT. 

Is  there  for  honest  poverty, 

Wha  hangs  his  head,  and  a'  that? 
The  coward  slave,  we  pass  him  by, 

And  dare  be  poor  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Our  toils  obscure,  and  a'  that; 
The  rank  is  but  the  guinea  stamp, 

The  man's  the  gowd  for  a'  that. 

What  though  on  namely  fare  we  dine, 

Wear  hodden  gfey,  and  a'  that  ? 
Gie  fools  their  silk,  and  knaves  their  wine, 

A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Their  tinsel  show  an'  a'  that ; 
An  honest  man,  though  ne'er  sae  poor, 

Is  chief  o'  men  for  a'  that. 

Ye  see  yon  birkie  ca'd  a  lord 

Wha  struts  and  stares,  and  a'  that, 
Though  hundreds  worship  at  his  word, 

He's  but  a  cuif  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  riband,  star,  an'  a'  that; 
A  man  of  independent  mind 

Can  look,  aud  laugh  at  a'  that. 

The  king  can  mak'  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  and  a'  that, 
An  honest  man's  aboon  his  might, 

Gude  faith  !  he  manna  fa'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  dignities  an'  a'  that, 
The  pith  o'  sense,  and  pride  o'  worth. 

Are  grander  far  than  a'  that. 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  183 

MARY  OF  ARGYLE. 

I  HAVE  heard  the  mavis  singing 

Its  love  song  to  the  morn ; 
I  have  seen  the  dew-drop  clinging 

To  the  rose  just  newly  born. 
But  a  sweeter  song  has  cheered  me, 

At  the  evening's  gentle  close, 
And  I've  seen  an  eye  still  brighter 
Than  the  dew-drop  on  the  rose. 
'Twas  thy  voice,  my  gentle  Mary, 
And  thy  artless,  winning  smile, 
That  made  this  world  an  Eden, 
Bonny  Mary  of  Argyle. 

Though  thy  voice  may  lose  its  sweetness, 

And  thine  eye  its  brightness,  too;  | 
Though  thy  step  may  lack  its  swiftness, 

And  thy  hair  its  sunnj-  hue. 
Still  to  me  wilt  thou  be  dearer, 

Than  all  the  world  shall  own  ; 
I  have  loved  thee  for  thy  beauty, 
But  not  for  that  alone. 

I  have  watch'd  thy  heart,  dear  Mary, 

And  its  goodness  was  the  wile, 
That  has  made  thee  mine  forever, 
Bonny  Mary  of  Argyle. 

DRAW  THE  SWORD,  SCOTLAND. 

Draw  the  sword,  Scotland  !  Scotland  !  Scotland  ! 

O'er  moor  and  o'er  mountain  hath  pass'd  the  war  sign ; 
The  pibroch  is  pealing,  pealing,  pealing, 

Who  heeds  not  the  summons  is  nae  son  o'  thine. 
The  clans  they  are  gathering,  gathering,  gathering, 

The  clans  they  are  gathering,  by  loch  and  by  lea; 
The  banners  they  are  flying,  flying,  flying, 

The  banners  they  are  flying  that  lead  to  victory. 
Draw  the  sword,  Scotland  !  Scotland  !  Scotland  ! 

Charge  as  ye  havo  charged  in  days  lang  syne  ! 
Sound  to  the  onset !  onset !  onset ! 

lie  who  but  falters  is  nae  son  o'  thine  ! 


184  SONGS    OP   SCOTLAND. 

Sheathe  the  sword,  Scotland  !  Scotland  !  Scotland  ! 

Sheathe  the  sword,  Scotland  !  for  dimm'd  is  its  shine; 
Thy  foemen  are  flying,  flying,  flying, 

And  who  kens  nae  mercy  is  nae  son  o'  thine. 
The  struggle  is  over,  over,  over, 

The  struggle  is  over,  the  victory  won  ; 
There  are  tears  for  the  fallen,  fallen,  fallen, 

And  glory  for  all  who  their  duty  have  done. 
Sheathe  the  sword,  Scotland  !  Scotland  !  Scotland  ! 

With  thy  loved  thistle  new  laurels  entwine ; 
Time  ne'er  shall  part  them,  part  them,  part  them, 

But  hand  down  the  garland  to  each  son  o'  thine. 


BONNY  DOON. 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonny  Doon, 

How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair  ? 
How  can  ye  chant,  ye'little  birds, 

While  I'm  sae  wae  and  full  o'  care? 
Ye'll  break  my  heart,  ye  little  birds, 

That  wander  through  that  flow'ring  thorn ) 
Ye  mind  me  o'  departed  joys, 

Departed  never  to  return. 

Oft  have  I  roam'd  by  bonny  Doon, 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twine, 
Where  ilka  bird  sung  o'er  its  note, 

And  cheerfully  I  joined  with  mine. 
Wi'  heartsome  glee  I  pu'd  a  rose, 

A  rose  out  of  yon  thorny  tree  ; 
But  my  false  love  has  stown  the  rose ; 

And  left  the  thorn  behind  to  me. 

Ye  roses  blaw  your  bonny  blooms, 

And  draw  the  wild  birds  by  the  burn ; 
For  Luman  promis'd  me  a  ring, 

And  ye  maun  aid  me  should  T  mourn. 
Ah  !  na,  na,  na,  ye  need  na  mourn, 

My  een  are  dim  and  drowsy  worn ; 
Ye  bonny  birds,  ye  need  na  sing, 

For  Luman  never  can  return. 


SONCS    OF    SCOTLAND.  185 

My  Luinan's  love,  in  broken  sighs, 

At  dawn  of  day  by  Doon  ye'se  hear; 
And  raid-day  by  the  willow  green, 

For  him  I'd  shed  a  silent  tear. 
Sweet  birds,  I  ken,  ye' 11  pity  me, 

And  join  me  wi'  a  plaintive  sang, 
While  echo  wakes  and  joins  the  mane, 

I  niak'  for  him  I  looed  sae  lang. 


"  WITHIN  A  xMILE  OF  EDINBOROV 

'Twas  within  a  mile  of  Edinboro'  town, 

In  the  rosy  time  of  the  year, 
Sweet  flowers  bloom'd,  and  the  grass  was  down, 

And  each  shepherd  woo'd  his  dear. 
Bonny  Jocky,  blithe  and  gay, 
Kiss'd  sweet  Jenny  making  hay, 

The  lassie  blush'd,  and  frowning,  cry'd,  "No,  it  will  not  do, 
I  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot,  buckle  to." 

Jocky  was  a  wag  that  never  would  wed, 

Though  long  he  had  follow'd  the  lass, 
Contented  she  earn'd  and  eat  her  brown  bread, 

And  merrily  turn'd  up  the  grass. 
Bonny  Jocky,  blithe  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  ripht  merrily ; 

Yet  still  she  blush'd,  and  frowning,  cried,  "No,  it  will  not  do, 
I  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot,  buckle  to." 

But  when  he  vow'd  he  would  make  her  his  bride, 

Though  his  flocks  and  herds  were  but  few, 
She  gave  him  her  hand  and  a  kiss  beside, 

And  vow'd  she'd  forever  be  true. 
Bonny  Jocky,  blithe  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  right  merrily; 

At  church  she  no  more  frowning  cry'd,  "  No,  it  will  not  do, 
I  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot,  buckle  to." 


186 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND. 


DUXCAN   GRAY. 


we  were  fou' ;  Ha,    ha,   the  •woo-ingo't !  Maggie  cuist  her  head  fu' heich,  Look'd  asklant,  and 


W^^-^^^^^m^^ 


w 


nn  •  co  skeigh,    Gart  puir  Dun-can  stand    a-beigh ;  Ha,        hs,  the    •woo  -  ing    o't  I 


Duncan  fleeched,  and  Duncan  prayed ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing-  o't! 
Meg-  was  deaf  as  Ailsa  Craig; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Duncan  sighed,  baith  out  and  in  ; 

Grat  his  een  baith  bleer't  and  blin' ; 
Spak'  o'  loupin'  ower  a  linn  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 

Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Slichtit  love  is  sair  to  bide  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
"  Shall  I,  like  a  fool,"  quoth  he, 
"  For  a  haughty  hizzy  dee  ? 
She  may  go  to — France,  for  me  !" 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 

How  it  comes,  let  doctors  tell ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Meg  grew  sick,  as  he  grew  well ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Something  in  her  bosom  wrings  ; 
For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings; 
And  oh  !  her  een  !  they  spak'  sic  things 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 

Duncan  was  a  lad  o'  grace  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Maggie's  was  a  piteous  case  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 
Duncan  couldna  be  her  death, 
Swelling  pity  smoored  his  wrath  : 
Now  they're  crouse  and  cantie  baith  ; 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooing  o't ! 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  187 

MY  LOVE  IS  LIKE  THE  RED,  REP,  ROSE. 

My  love  is  like  the  red,  red,  rose, 

That's  newly  sprung  in  June, 
My  love  is  like  the  melody, 

That's  sweetly  play'd  in  tune. 
So  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass, 

So  deep  in  love  am  I; 
And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 

Though  all  the  seas  gang  dry. 

Though  all  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 

And  the  rocks  melt  with  the  sun, 
I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 

While  the  sands  of  life  shall  run. 
Then  fare  thee  well,  my  only  love, 

And  fare  thee  well  awhile, 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  love, 

Though  it  were  ten  thousand  mile. 

MAC-GREGOR'S  GATHERING. 

The  moon's  on  the  lake,  and  the  mist's  on  the  brae, 
And  the  clan  has  a  name  that  is  nameless  by  day ; 
Our  signal  for  fight  which  from  monarchs  we  drew, 
Must  be  heard  but  by  night  in  our  vengeful  haloo ; 
Then  haloo,  haloo,  haloo,  Gregalach. 

If  they  rob  us  of  name,  and  pursue  us  with  beagles, 
Give  their  roofs  to  the  flame,  and  their  flesh  to  the  eagles ; 
Then  gather,  gather,  gather,  gather,  gather,  gather, 
While  there's  leaves  in  the  forest  and  foam  on  the  river, 
Mac-Gregor,  despite  them,  shall  flourish  forever. 

Glenorchy's  proud  mountain,  Colchurn  and  her  towers, 
Glen  Strae  and  Glenlyon,  no  longer  are  ours, 
^We're  landless,  landless,  landless,  Gregalach  •  landless,  land- 
less, landless,  Gregalach. 
Through  the  depth  of  Loch  Katrine  the 'steed  shall  career, 
O'er  the  peak  of  Renlomond  the  galley  shall  steer, 
And  the  rocks  of  Craii;  Royston  like  icicles  melt, 
,Ere  our  wrongs  be  forgot,  or  our  vengeance  unfelt  • 
Then  haloo,  haloo,  haloo.  Gregalach. 
If  tlmv  rob  11-  of  name,  kc. 


188  SONGS    OP   SCOTLAND. 

OH  WHISTLE  AND  I'LL  COME  TO  YOU,  MY  LAD. 

Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  ray  lad, 
Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  ray  lad  ; 
Though  father  and  mother  and  a'  should  gae  mad, 
Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad; 
But  warily  tent,  when  ye  come  to  court  me, 
And  come  na  unless  the  back-gate  be  ajee; 
Syne  up  the  back  style  and  let  nae  body  see, 
And  come  as  ye  were  nae  coming  to  me, 
And  come  as  ye  were  nae  coming  to  me. 

Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad, 
Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad; 
Though  father  and  mother  and  a'  should  gae  mad, 
Jeanny  will  venture  wi'  ye,  my  lad. 
At  kirk  or  at  market,  whene'er  ye  meet  me, 
Gang  by  me  as  though  that  ye  cared  nae  a  flee; 
But  steal  me  a  blink  o'  your  bonnie  black  e'e, 
Yet  look  as  ye  were  nae  looking  at  me, 
Yet  look  as  ye  were  nae  looking  at  me. 

Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad, 
Oh,  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you,  my  lad; 
Though  father  and  mother  and  a'  should  gae  mad, 
Thy  Jeanny  will  venture  wi'  ye,  my  lad. 
Ay  vow  and  protest  that  ye  care  nae  for  me, 
And  whyles  ye  may  lightly  my  beauty  a  wee ; 
But  court  nae  anither  though  joking  ye  be, 
For  fear  that  she  wyle  your  fancy  frae  me, 
For  fear  that  she  wyle  your  fancy  frae  me. 

A  PARODY  ON  THE  ABOVE,  BUT  NOT  "Scotched" 

Oh  !  mizzle  and  I  will  go  with  you,  my  dear, 
Oh,  mizzle  and  I  will  go  with  you,  my  dear, 
Tho'  daddy  and  mammy  should  cut  short  my  gear, 
Just  mizzle  and  I  will  cut  with  you,  my  dear. 
Fast  youth,  if  you're  willing  to  slope  oif  with  me, 
I'll  put  up  a  bite  and  I'll  hop  like  &flea, 
A  squint  from  your  eye  shall  my  telegraph  be, 
But  squint  not  as  tho'  you  were  squinting  at  me. 
Oh,  mizzle,  and  I  will  slope  with  you,  my  dear, 
Oh,  mizzle,  and  I  will  slope  with  you,  my  dear. 


r    SCOTLAND.  189 

THE  FLOWER  OF  ELLERSLIE 

She's  sportive  ms  the  zephyr 

That  sips  of  ev'ry  sweet, 
She's  fairer  than  the  fairest  lily 

In  nature's  soft  retreat ; 
Her  eyes  are  like  the  crystal  brook, 

As  clear  and  bright  to  see; 
Her  lips  outshine  the  scarlet  flow'r 

Of  bonny  Ellenlie. 
Her  lips,  &c. 

Oh  !  were  my  love  a  blossom. 

When  summer  skies  depart, 
I'd  plant  her  in  my  bosom. 

And  wear  her  near  my  heart; 
And  oft  I'd  kiss  her  balmy  lips, 

So  beautiful  to  see. 
Which  far  outshine  the  scarlet  flow'r 

Of  bonny  Ellerslie. 
Which  far,  &c. 

FLOW  GENTLY,  SWEET  AFTON. 

Flow  gently, sweet   Afton,  among  thy  green  braes, 

Flow  gently,  I'll  sing  thee  a  song  in  thy  praise; 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream, 

Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  disturb  not  her  dream. 
Thou  dove,  whose  soft  echo  resounds  from  the  hill, 

Thou  green  crested  lapwing,  with  noise  loud  and  shrill, 
Ye  wild  whistling  warblers,  your  music  forbear, 

I  charge  you  disturb  not  my  slumbering  fair. 

Thy  crystal  stream,  Afton,  how  lovely  it  glides; 

And  winds  by  the  cot  where  my  Mary  resides; 
There,  oft  as  mild  ev'ninir  weeps  over  the  lea, 

Thy  sweet  scented  groves  shade  my  Mary  and  me. 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton.  anion g  thy  sweet  braes, 

Flow  gently,  sweet  rivei,  the  theme  of  my  lays, 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream, 

Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  disturb  not  her  dream. 

Bunxs. 


190  SONGS   OF   SCOTLAND. 

AULD  LANG  SYNE. 

Should  auld  acquaintance  "be  forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  mind? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  days  o'  lang  syne  ? 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne, 
We'll  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 
We  twa  ha'e  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  gowans  fine; 
But  we've  wander'd  mony  a  weary  foot, 
Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear,  &c. 
We  twa  ha'e  paidlet  i'  the  burn, 

Frae  morning  sun  till  dine; 
But  seas  between  us  braid  ha'e  roar'd, 
Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c. 
And  here's  a  hand,  my  trusty  friend, 

And  gies  a  haud  o'thine; 
And  we'll  tak'  a  right  gude  willie-waught, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c. 
And  surely  you'll  be  your  pint-stoup, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine, 
And  we'll  tak'  a  drap  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne,  &c. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  &c. 

THE  LASS  WI'  THE  BONNIE  BLUE  EEN 

Tune — Campbells  are  coming. 

Oh,  saw  ye  the  lass  wi'  the  bonnie  blue  een  ? 
Her  smile  is  the  sweetest  that  ever  was  seen ; 
Her  cheek's  like  the  rose,  but  fresher  I  ween, 
She's  the  loveliest  dancer  you'll  see  on  the  green. 
The  home  of  my  love  is  down  by  yon  stream, 
Where  wild  flowers  welcome  the  sun's  rosy  beam, 
But  the  sweetest  of  flowers  on  that  spot  that  is  seen, 
Is  the  lass  that  I  love  with  the  bonnie  blue  een. 
Oh  !  saw  ye  the  lass,  &c. 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  191 

When  night  overshadows  her  cot  in  the  glen, 
She'll  steal  out  to  meet  her  Iov'd  Donald  again, 
And  when  the  moon  shines  o'er  the  valleys  so  green, 
I'll  welcome  the  lass  with  the  bonnie  blue  een  ; 
As  the  dove  that  has  wander'd  away  from  his  mate, 
He'll  return  on  love's  pinions  \vi'  joy  all  elate, 
And  love  and  tranquility  fall  quite  serene, 
On  the  maid  that  I  love  wi'  the  bonnie  blue  een. 
Oh  !  saw  ye  the  lass,  &c. 


"COMIX'  THRO'  THE  RYE." 

If  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  thro'  the  rye, 
If  a  body  kiss  a  body, 

Need  a  body  cry  ? 
Ev'ry  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane,  they  say,  ha'e  I, 
Yet  a'  the  lads  they  smile  at  me, 

When  comin'  thro'  the  rye. 
If  a  body  meet  a  body,  &c. 

If  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  frae  the  town, 
If  a  body  kiss  a  body, 

Need  a  body  frown  ? 
Ev'ry  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane,  they  say,  ha'e  I, 
But  a'  the  lads  they  smile  at  me, 

Comin'  thro'  the  rye. 

Amang  the  train  there  is  a  swain, 

I  dearly  love  mysel', 
But  what's  his  name,  or  where's  his  hame, 

I  dinna  choose  to  tell. 
Ev'ry  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane,  they  say,  ha'e  I, 
But  there's  a  laddie  smiles  at  me, 

Comin'  thro'  the  rye. 


192  SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND. 


GOW'S  FAREWEEL. 

You've  surely  heard  o'  famous  Niel. 
The  man  that  play'd  the  fiddle  weel, 
I  wat  lie  was  a  canty  ehiel', 

And  dearly  lo'ed  the  whiskey,  0  ! 
And  ay  sin'  he  wore  tartan  trews, 
He  dearly  lo'ed  the  Athole  brose  ; 
And  wae  was  be,  you  may  suppose, 

To  play  fareweel  to  whiskey,  0! 

Alake,  quoth  Neil,  I'm  frail  and  auld, 
And  find  my  bluid  grows  unco  cauld, 
I  think  'twad  mak'  me  blythe  and  bauld, 

A  wee  drap  Highland  whiskey,  0  ! 
Yet  the  doctors  they  do  a'  agree, 
That  whiskey's  no  the  drink  for  me ; 
Saul  !  quoth  he,  'twill  spoil  my  glee, 

Should  they  part  me  and  whiskey,  0  ! 

Tho'  I  can  get  baitb  wine  and  ale, 
And  find  my  bead  and  fingers  bale, 
I'll  be  content,  tho'  legs  should  fail, 

To  play  fareweel  to  whiskey,  O  ! 
But  still  I  think  on  auld  lang  syne, 
When  Paradise  our  friends  did  tyne, 
Because  something  ran  in  their  mind, 

Forbid,  like  Highland  whiskey,  O  ! 

Come,  a'  ye  powers  of  music,  come  ! 
I  find  my  heart  grows  unco  glum  : 
My  fiddle-strings  will  no  play  bum, 

To  say  fareweel  to  whiskey,  O  ! 
Yet  I'll  tak'  my  fiddle  in  my  band, 
And  screw  the  pegs  up  while  they'll  stand, 
To  mak'  a  lamentation  grand 

On  gude,  auld  Highland  whiskey,  0  ! 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  193 

THE  [NGLE  SIDE. 

It's  rare  to  see  the  morning  breeze, 

Like  a  bonfire  frae  the  sea  ; 
It's  fair  to  see  the  burnie  kiss 

The  lips  o'  the  flowery  lea  ; 
An'  fine  it  is  on  the  green  hill  side, 

Where  hums  the  bonny  bee; 
But  rarer,  fairer,  finer  far, 

Is  the  Ingle  side  for  me. 
Glens  may  be  gilt  wi'  gowans  rare, 

The  birds  may  fill  the  tree, 
And  haughs  ha'e  a'  the  scented  ware, 

That  simmer's  growth  can  gie  ; 
But  the  canty  hearth  where  cronies  meet, 

An'  the  darling  o'  our  e'e, 
That  makes  to  us  a  warl'  complete; 

Oh,  the  Ingle  side  for  me  ! 

BONNIE  JEAN. 
Of  a'  the  airts  the  wind  can  blow, 

I  dearly  love  the  west, 
For  there  the  bonnie  lassie  lives, 

The  lassie  I  love  best. 
There  wild  woods  grow  and  rivers  flow, 

And  mony  a  hill  between, 
Both  day  and  night  my  fancy's  flight 

Is  ever  with  my  Jean. 

There  wild  woods  grow,  &c. 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  fresh  and  fair  ; 
I  hear  her  in  the  tuneful  birds, 

I  hear  her  charm  the  air. 
There's  no  a  bonnie  flower  that  springs, 

By  fountain,  shore,  or  green, 
There's  no  a  bonnie  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  of  my  Jean. 

In    the    correspondence    between     Burns   and    his    friend 
Thomson,  is  found  the  following  additional  verse  to  the  above 
beautiful  ballad,  written  by  the  poet  when  he  contemplated 
leaving  Scotland  for  the  Wot  Indies. 
13 


194  SONGS   OF   SCOTLAND. 

■ 

Should  cruel  fate  cause  us  to  part, 

Far,  far  from  Scotia's  line, 
Yet  her  dear  image  round  my  heart, 

For  ever  shall  entwine. 
Tho'  mountains  frown  and  deserts  howl, 

Or  oceans  roar  between, 
Yet  dearer  than  my  deathless  soul, 

I  still  would  love  my  Jean. 


Burks. 


BRUCE'S  ADDRESS. 

Scots,  wha  ha'e  wi'  Wallace  bled  ! 
Scots,  wham  Bruce  has  aften  led ! 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 

Or  to  glorious  victory  ! 
Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour ! 
See  the  front  of  battle  lower ! 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power ! 

Edward  !  chains  and  slavery  ! 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor  knave  ? 
Wha  would  fill  a  coward's  grave? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave? 

Traitor  !  coward  !  turn  and  flee. 
Wha  for  Scotland's  king  and  law 
Freedom's  sword  will  strongly  draw  ? 
Freeman  stand,  or  freeman  fa' ! 

Caledonians  !  on  wi'  me  ! 

Byoppression's  woes  and  pains  ! 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains  ! 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 

But  they  shall  be,  shall  be  free. 
Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low  ! 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe  ! 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ! 

Forward  !  let  us  do,  or  die  ! 


Bubhs. 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  1S>% 


"WHAT'S  A'  THE  STEER,  KDIMER?" 

What's  a'  the  steer,  Kimmer?  what's  a'  the  steer  ? 
Jamie,  he  is  landed,  and  soon  lie  will  Le  here. 
Go  lace  your  boddice  blue,  lassie,  lace  your  boddice  blue, 
Put  on  your  Sunday  clothes,  and  trim  your  cap  anew, 
For  Fin  right  glad  at  heart,  Kimmer,  right  glad  at  heart, 
I  ha'e  a  bonnie  breastknot,  and  for  his  sake  Fll  wear't, 
Sin'  Jamie  is  come  hame,  we  ha'e  nae  care  to  fear, 
Bid  the  neighbors  a'  come  in  and  welcome  Jamie  here. 

Where's  Donald  Todd,  lassie?  rin,  fetch  him  here; 
Bid  him  bring  his  pipes,  lassie,  bid  him  tune  clear, 
For  we'll  taste  the  barley  mow,  and  loot  it  to  and  fro, 
Sin'  Jamie  is  come  hame,  we'll  gi'e  him  hearty  cheer. 
And  it's  what's  a'  the  steer,  Kimmer?  what's  a'  the  steer? 
Jamie,  he  is  landed,  and  soon  he  will  be  here, 
Bid  Allan  Ramsay  rin,  bid  him  kill  a  fatted  deer, 
Oh  the  neighbors  little  ken,  how  welcome's  Jamie  dear. 


JOHN  ANDERSON,  MY  JO. 

John  Anderson,  my  Jo  John, 

When  we  were  first  acquent, 
Your  locks  were  like  the  raven,  John, 

Your  bonnie  brow  was  brent. 
But  nowr  your  brow  is  bald,  John, 

Your  locks  are  like  the  snow; 
But  blessings  on  your  frosty  pow, 

John  Anderson,  my  Jo. 

John  xVnderson,  my  Jo  John, 

We  climb'd  the  hill  thcgither, 
And  raony  a  cantie  day,  John, 
We've  had  with  ane  anither. 
Now  we  maun  totter  down,  John, 

hand  in  hand  we'll  go, 
And  we'll  sleep  thegither  at  the  foot, 
John  Anderson,  my  Jo. 

Robert  Burns. 


196  SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND. 


THE  LASS  0'  GOWRIE. 

'Twas  on  a  summer's  afternoon, 

A  wee  before  the  sun  gaed  down, 
A  lassie  with  a  braw  silk  gown, 

Came  o'er  the  hills  to  Gowrie. 
The  rose  bud  tinged  with  morning  shower, 

Bloomed  fresh  within  the  sunny  bower, 
But  Kittie  was  the  fairest  flower, 

That  ever  bloomed  on  Gowrie. 

I  had  nae  thought  to  do  her  wrang, 

When  round  her  waist  my  arms  I  flang, 
And  said,  "  My  lassie,  will  ye  gang 

To  view  the  carse  o'  G-owrie  ? 
I'll  take  ye  to  my  father's  ha' 

In  yon  green  fields  beside  the  shaw, 
And  make  ye  lady  of  them  a', 

The  brawest  wife  in  Gowrie." 

Saft  kisses  on  her  lips  I  laid, 

The  blush  upon  her  cheek  soon  play'd, 
She  whispered  modestly  and  said, 

"  I'll  gang  wi'  ye  to  Gowrie." 
The  auld  folk  soon  gave  their  consent, 

And  to  the  kirk  we  quickly  went, 
That  joined  us  to  our  hearts'  content. 

And  now  she's  "  Lady  Gowrie." 


HAIL  TO  THE  CHIEF. 

Hail  to  the  chief,  who  in  triumph  advances, 

Honor'd  and  blest  be  the  evergreen  pine ; 
Long  may  the  tree  in  his  banner  that  glances, 
Flourish — the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line. 

Heaven  send  it  happy  dew, 

Earth  lend  it  sap  anew, 
Gaily  to  bourgeon,  and  broadly  to  grow; 

While  every  Highland  glen 

Sends  our  shout  back  again, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 


SONGS    OF    SCOTLAND.  197 

Ours  is  no  sapling  chance-sown  by  the  fountain, 

Blooming  at  beltane,  in  winter  to  fade; 
When  the  whirlwind  has  stript  every  leaf  on  the  mountain, 
The  more  shall  Clan  Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 
Moor'd  in  the  rifted  rock, 
Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock, 
Firmer  he  roots  him.  the  ruder  it  blow  : 

Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then, 
Echo  his  praise  again, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 

Proudly  our  pibroch  has  thrill'd  in  Glen  Fruin, 
And  Banochar's  groans  to  our  slogan  replied, 
Glen  Luss  and  Boss  Dhu,  they  are  smoking  in  ruin, 
And  the  best  of  Loch  Lomond  lie  dead  on  her  side. 

Widow  and  Saxon  maid 

Long  shall  lament  our  raid, 
Think  of  Clan  Alpine  with  fear  and  with  woe  : 

Lenox  and  Leven  Glen 

Shake  when  they  hear  again, 
"  Roderigh  Yich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  I" 

Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands  ! 

Stretch  to  your  oars  for  the  evergreen  pine  ! 
Oh  !  that  the  rose  bud  that  graces  yon  islands, 
Were  wreath'd  in  a  garjand  around  him  to  twine. 

Oh  !  that  some  seedling  gem, 

Worthy  such  noble  stem, 
Honor'd  and  blest  in  their  shadow  might  grow ! 

Long  should  Clan  Alpine  then 

Ring  from  her  deepmost  glen, 
u  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  Dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  I" 

BANKS  OF  ALLAN  WATER. 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

When  the  sweet  spring  time  did  fall, 
Was  the  miller's  lovely  daughter, 

The  fairest  of  them  all. 
For  his  bride  a   soldier  sought  her, 

And  a  winning  tongue  had  he, 
On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

None  so  gay  as  she. 


198  SONGS   OP   SCOTLAND. 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

When  brown  autumn  spread  its  store, 
Then  I  saw  the  miller's  daughter, 

But  she  smiled  no  more : 
For  the  summer  grief  had  brought  her, 

And  the  soldier  false  was  he, 
On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

None  so  sad  as  she. 

On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water, 

When  the  winter  snow  fell  fast, 
Still  was  seen  the  miller's  daughter, 

Chilling  blew  the  blast. 
But  the  miller's  lovely  daughter 

Both  from  cold  and  care  was  free, 
On  the  banks  of  Allan  Water 

There  a  corpse  lay  she. 


SEA  AND  NAVAL  SONGS 


CAPTINGE  KYDDE,  YE  TERRIBLE  PIRATTE. 

A  MORANTIC  SENTIMENTAL  BALLADK,  AS  IT  HATH  BEEN 
WRITTINGE  BY  niS  ONLY  SURVIVING  DESCENDANT — ■ 
"  KYDD,"    NAMED    CALABASH    COD    LINE,    OF    CAPE    COD. 

On  !  my  name  is  Capting  Kydd,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
Oh  !   my  name  is  Capting  Kydd,  a*  f  sailed, 
Oh  !  my  name  is  Capting  Kydd,  and  so  wieked-ly  I  did, 
That  through  ev'ry  law  I  slid  (yes  slantendicularly,) 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed. 

Oh  !  I  sparked  the  Countess  Britain,  ere  I  sailed,  ere  I  sailed, 
Yes,  I  sparked  the  Countess  Britain,  ere  I  sailed, 
I  sparked  the  Countess  Britain, 
With  me  that  gal  was  smit-ten, 

But  her  folks  showed  me  the  mitten,  (with  a  feet  an'  a  kick  in 
it,) 

Ere  I  sailed,  ere  I  sailed. 

Oh  !  a  witch  came  riding  by,  ere  I  sailed,  ere  I  sailed, 
A  witch  came  riding  by,  ere  I  sailed. 
Says  she,  "  Robert,  don't  you  cry 
About  your  gal  an'  folks  so  high, 
Take  revenge — in  piracy," 

And  I  sailed,  and  T  sailed. 

(199) 


200  SONGS    OF   THE    SEA   AND    NAVY. 

So  I  hoisted  the  Red  Flag,  and  I  sailed,  and  I  sailed, 
So  I  hoisted  the  Red  Flag,  and  I  sailed, 
'Twas  a  kid  upon  a  rag, 
And  I  went  the  entire — stag  (hog), 
As  I  sailed,  &c. 

I  seized  her  dad  upon  the  sea,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
I  kotched  my  gal's  dad  on  the  sea,  as  I  sailed, 
I  met  him  on  the  sea — and  he  tried  to  soft-soap  me, 
But  I  made  him  walk  the  plank  {partiek-larly.} 
As  I  sailed,  &c. 

I  met  that  gal  there  too,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
I  met  my  gal  there  too,  as  I  sailed, 
Her  loveyer  there  I  slew,  of  his  heart  I  made  a  stew, 
And — I  made  her  eat  it  too, 
As  I  sailed,  &c. 

Oh  !  I  robbed  the  rich  Duke  Grassee,  as  he  sailed,  as  he  sailed, 

I  robbed  the  rich  Duke  Grassee,  as  he  sailed, 

I  robbed  the  rich  Duke  Grassee, 

He  tried  to  come  the  sassy, 

And  I  gave  him  peculiar  "  jesse," 

As  I  sailed,  &c. 
Four  Admirals  at  me  run,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
Four  Admirals  at  me  run,  as  I  sailed, 
I  cut  off  the  head  of  one,  an'  I  ramm'd  it  in  a  gun, 
Sent  him  clear  to  set  of  sun,  (and  knocked  spots  into  it,) 

As  I  sailed,  &c. 

But  my  ship  got  some  hard  knocks,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 

And  I  feared  to  lose  my  rocks,  as  I  sailed, 

So  I  kotch  of  whales  a  flock, 

And  they  made  me  a  dry-dock  (on  the  double  action  lever 

principle,) 
And — I  repaired  her  on  their  stocks, 
Then  I  sailed,  &c. 

Oh !  my  crew  did  inutin-y,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
But  I  hung  'em  up  sky  high,  as  I  sailed, 
I  hung  forty  mast  head  high, 
Like  cod  fish  strung  up  to  dry, 

And  next  time  they  didn't  trv  (that  speculation  any  more), 
While  I  sailed,  &e. 


SONGS    OF    THE    SF.A    AND    NAVY.  201 

Fifty  ghosts  appeared  one  night,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
Fifty  ghosts  appeared  one  night,  as  I  sailed, 
They  thought  me  for  to  fright, 
But  I  put  them  all  to  flight, 

By  burning  a  blue  light  (made  of  sea-sarpent's  oil,) 
As  I  sailed,  £c. 


My  gal's  ghost  came  and  said,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
Oh  ! — my  gal's  ghost  came  and  said,  as  I  sailed, 
Oh  !  quit  this  trade  and  wed. 
My  poor  ghost  without  a  "  red" 
1  says,  Mi>s — enough  said,  ("  Shake,") 
As  I  sailed,  &c. 


So  I  steer' d  for  Yankee  shore,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
Then  I  steer'd  for  Yankee  shore,  as  I  sailed, 
There  I  buried  all  my  store, 

Consisting  of  a  large  majority  of  gold  watches,  brooches,  dia- 
monds, plates,  breastpins,  &c,  &c. 
And  some  more, 
And  folks  dived  for  it  all  o'er, 
But  they  failed,  &c. 


Oh  !  they  dived  and  dragged  East  River,  where  I  sailed,  where 

I  sailed, 
They  dived  and  dragged  East  River, 
For  they  kotch  the  treasure  fever — 
And  (thumbing  )  much  mud  did  they  diskiver, 

As  they  sailed,  &c. 


Some  said  'twas  on  the  highland,  and  they  said,  and  they  said, 
Som>'  e  -  on  the  highland,  as  they  si 

Some  sai  highland — 

But  Edg  ■',  near  Charleston,  in  his 

But  li 

For  'twas  in  a  -  iry  land, 

il'd,  all  entail'd,   (and  salted  down.) 


202  SONGS    OF    THE    SEA    AND    NAVY. 

Oh  !  I  banked  it  on  the  shore,  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 

On  the  Philadelphia  shore,  as  I  sailed, 

On  Philadelphia  shore, 

At  Gr.  G-.  Evans'  Gift  Book  Store, 

For  him  to  deal  out  ever  more, 

With  good  books  containing  a  warning  to  all  young  lovyers 

when  they  get  the  mitten  to  never  turn  pirates, 
Or  else  like  me,  they'll  mourn  the  day,  as  I  do, 
That  I  sailed,  {In  a  horn.) 


THE  PLOUGH  BOY  AT  SEA. 

Air — Nor  ah  Greina. 

If  folks  who  sing  about  the  sea, 

Could  half  of  'em  see  the  place  they  sing  about, 
They'd  quickly  change  their  tune  with  me, 

And  ocean's  fame  would  cease  to  ring  about. 
Oh  !   then  instead  of  rippling  waves, 

They'd  tell  of  squalls  and  hurricanes  thundering, 
Of  see-saw  decks,  and  sea-sick  heaves, 

Lurching — pitching — reeling — floundering. 
Spoken — Hallo  !  there,  Captain,  stop   the  horses — I  mean, 
hitch  up  the  boat — lift  up  the  paddle  wheel,  and  reef  the 
smoke  pipe. 

For  devil  take  the  sea,  say  I, 

Water  salt,  and  meat  that's  salterer, 
Billows  boiling  up  sky  high, 

I  wish  that  folks  would  yoke  or  halter  her. 

At  daylight  when  I  wakes  I  feels, 

Like  a  top  with  the  delirium  trimmins, 
I  find  -my  head  where  I  poked  my  heels, 

And  all  creation's  round  me  swimming. 
And  when  I  goes  to  eat,  the  boat 

Jist  like  a  wild  colt,  kicks  and  pitches 
Half  of  my  soup  goes  down  my  throat, 

And  to'ther  half  goes  down  my — trowsers. 
Spoken — Staggering,   Hellow  !    wo,   haw,   gee,   scotch  the 
wheel  there,  we're  goin'  down  hill. 

With  a  devil  take  the  sea,  say  I,  &c. 


SONGS    OF   THE    SEA    AND    NAVY.  20J 

You  folks,  that  on  the  sea  would  roam, 

Don't  tru>t  its  darn'd  foundation  fickle. 
Before  you  go,  pray  stny  at,  homo, 

For  sweets  of  sea-life  are  all  "pickles" 

Its  bracing  gales,  they  are  no  good, 

"Unless  you  splice  tlio  main-brace,  too  sirs, 
You'll  think  you're  loose  on  Noah's  flood, 

While  no  Mount  Arrow  root  in  view,  sirs. 
Devil  take  the  sea,  say  I, 

Water  salt,  and  feed  that's  salterer, 
Seas  like  hay  stacks,  poked  up  high, 

I  wish  the  folks  would  yoke  or  halter  her. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 


FAR,  FAR  UPON  THE  SEA. 

Far,  far  upon  the  sea, 

The  good  ship  speeding  free, 
Upon  the  deck  we  gather,  young  and  old ; 

And  view  the  flapping  sail, 

Swelling  out  before  the  gale, 
Full  and  round  without  a  wrinkle  or  a  fold. 

Or  watch  the  waves  that  glide, 

By  the  vessel's  stately  side, 
Or  the  wild  sea  birds  that  follow  thro'  the  air ; 

Or  gather  in  a  ring, 

And  with  cheerful  voices  sing. 
Oh !  gaily  goes  the  ship  when  the  wind  blows  fair. 

Far,  far  upon  the  sea, 

With  the  sunshine  on  our  lee, 
We  talk  of  pleasant  days  when  we  were  young, 

And  remember  though  we  roam, 

The  sweet  melodies  of  home, 
The  happy  songs  of  childhood  which  we  sung; 

And  though  we  quit  her  shore, 

To  return  to  it.  no  mo. 
Sound  the  hat  Columbia  yet  shall  bear, 

That  "  Yankees  rule  the  waves, 

And  never  shall  be  slaves/' 
Oh  !  gaily  goes  the  ship  when  the  wind  blows  fair. 


204  SONGS   OF   THE   SEA   AND   NAVY. 

Far,  far  upon  the  sea, 

Whate'er  our  country  be, 
The  thought  of  it  shall  cheer  us  as  we  go, 

And  Scotland's  sons  shall  join, 

"  In  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne," 
With  voice  by  memory  softened  clear  and  low; 

And  the  men  of  Erin's  Isle, 

Battling  sorrow  with  a  smile, 
Shall  sing  "  St.  Patrick's  morning"  void  of  care, 

And  thus  we  pass  the  day, 

And  we  journey  on  our  way, 
Oh  !  gaily  goes  the  ship  when  the  wind  blows  fair. 

BEN  BOLT. 

Oh  !  don't  you  remember  sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt, 

Sweet  Alice  with  hair  so  brown, 
She  wept  with  delight  when  you  gave  her  a  smile, 

And  trembled  with  fear  at  your  frown  ? 
In  the  old  church  yard  in  the  valley,  Ben  Bolt, 

In  a  corner,  obscure  and  alone, 
They  have  fitted  a  slab  of  granite  so  gray/ 

And  sweet  Alice  lies  under  the  stone. 
They  have  fitted  a  slab  of  granite  so  gray, 

And  sweet  Alice  lies  under  the  stone. 
Oh  !  don't  you  remember  the  wood,  Ben  Bolt, 

Near  the  green  sunny  slope  of  the  hill; 
Where  oft  we  have  sung  'neath  its  wide  spreading 

And  kept  time  to  the  click  of  the  mill  ? 
The  mill  has  gone  to  decay,  Ben  Bolt, 

And  a  quiet  now  reigns  all  around,     • 
See,  the  old  rustic  porch  with  its  roses  so  sweet, 

Lies  scatter'd  and  fallen  to  the  ground. 
Oh  !  don't  you  remember  the  school,  Ben  Bolt, 

And  the  master  so  kind  and  so  true, 
And  the  little  nook  by  the  clear  running  brook, 

Where  we  gather'd  the  flow'rs  as  they  grew  ? 
O'er  the  master's  grave  grows  the  grass,  Ben  Bolt, 

And  the  running  little  brook  is  now  dry, 
And  of  all  the  friends  who  were  schoolmates  then, 

There  remains,  Ben,  but  you  and  I. 
And  of  all,  &c. 

Thomas  Dunn  English. 


BON  CIS    OF    THE    SEA    AND    NAVY.  205 

A  YANKEE  SUIT  AND  A  YANKEE  CREW. 
A  Yankee  ship  and  a  Yankee  crew, 

Tally  hi  ho  !  you  know  ! 
O'er  the  bright  blue  W£ves  like  a  sea-bird  flew, 

Singing  hey  !  aloft  and  alow  ! 
Her  sails  are  spread  to  the  fairy  breeze, 

The  spray  sparkling  as  thrown  from  her  prow, 
Her  flag  is  the  proudest  that  floats  on  the  seas, 
When  homeward  she's  steering  now. 

A  Yankee  ship,  &c. 
A  Yankee  ship  and  a  Yankee  crew, 

Tally  hi  ho  !  you  know  ! 
With  hearts  aboard  both  gallant  and  true, 

The  same  aloft  and  alow. 
The  blackened  sky  and  the  whistling  wind, 

Foretell  the  approach  of  a  gale, 
And  home  and  its  joys  flit  over  each  mind, 
Husbands,  lovers,  on  deck  there  !  a  sail  ! 
A  Yankee  ship  and  a  Yankee  crew, 

Tally  hi  ho  !  you  know  ! 
Distress  is  the  word,  God  speed  them  through, 
Bear  a  hand  aloft  and  alow  ! 
A  Yankee  ship  and  a  Yankee  crew, 

Tally  hi  ho  !  you  know  ! 
Freedom  defends  the  land  where  it  grew, 

We're  free  aloft  and  alow ! 
Bearing  down  is  a  ship  in  regal  pride, 
Defiance  floating  at  each  mast-head ; 
She's  wreck'd,  and  the  one  bears  that  floats  alongside, 
The  stars  and  the  stripes  that's  to  victory  wed. 
A  Yankee  ship,  &c. 

J.  S.  Joxes. 

ALL'S  WELL. 

Deserted  by  the  waning  moon, 

When  skies  proclaim  night's  cheerless  noon, 

On  tower,  or  fort,  or  tented  ground, 

The  sentry  walks  his  lonely  round, 

And  should  a  footstep  haply  stray, 

Where  caution  marks  the  guarded  way, 

"  Who  goes  there?  Stranger,  quickly  tell  !" 

"A  friend  !"— "  The  word  ?"— "  Good  night!  All's  well!" 


SO:  .HE    sEA    AM     NAVY 

Or  sailing  on  the  midnight  d 

TVhile  w 

The  careful  m 

I     _  .   ■.  '  ' 

Aud  while  his  th 

Some  well  known  voic 

••  What  cheer?  oh,  bij 

"Above  . 

THE  SAIMEB  BOY. 

A  i 

My  love  is  a  Sailier  Boy,  so  galorious  and  so  bold, 
He's  as  tall  as  a  flag  staff,  only  nineteen  years  old  m} 
For  to  cruise  the  wide  world  he  left  his  own  d 
And  my  I  busting  because  he  is  not  here. 

For  his  spiri'  nendious,  oh,  fierce  to  behold, 

In  a  young  man.  bred  a  butcher  boy,  only  nineteen  yean 
old. 

His  parents  they  bound  him  to  a  carpenter. 
But  a  sea-faring  life  he  did  much  pre 
His  mind  was  a  boilir. _  didn't  keer, 

For  all  that  he  wished — was  a  clam  boat  to  steer. 
For  his  a  -  tremendious,  &c. 

Oh,  my  bus-um  is  toe-  r>  rollin'  sea, 

For  fear  his  affect:  me  j 

For  a  sweetheart  can  be  had  in  -  .so  Fm  told, 
More  particularly  for  a  your  en  years  old> 

For  . 

My  heart  is  a  breal 

For  fear  that  fine-formed  m:  iae; 

Of  all  the  wealth  in  the  uiiir  ^ver  and  gold, 

I'd  give  .  ."  Boy,  oii.  its  old. 

For  -  tremendious,  &c. 

If  that  er  -an  be — 

But  lay  a  stiff  cor] 
The  weeds  of  a  wi 

I'd  wear  for  my  Sailiei  ': -:rs  old. 

For 


BONGS   Of  Tl  AVI'.  12u7 


ADDITIONAL,    NATIONAL,    AND    PATRIOTICAL    VERSES. 


Should  enemy  dare  to  insult  our  stripe  or  our  star, 
And  old  uncle  Samuel  I  go  in  to  war; 

I  then  would  apply  to  galliai  I  so  bold, 

For  -i  post  for  my  Sailier  Boy,  only  ni  ears  old. 

For  his  Bpirits  are  tremendious, 

Then  should  the  fierce  enemy  come  out  with  his  host 
For  to  stop  our  free  trading  on  the  ocean  and  coast, 
They  will  catch  Yankee  thunder  and  find  themselves  sold, 
By  our  gallant  young  Sailier  boys,  scarce  nineteen  years  old. 
For  his  spirits  are  tremendious,  &o. 


THE  .MALTESE  BOAT  SONG. 

See,  brothers,  see,  how  the  night  comes  on, 

Slowly  sinks  the  setting  sun  ; 

Hark  !  how  the  solemn  vesper's  sound, 

Sweetly  falls  upon  the  • 

Then  haste^,  let  us  work  till  the  daylight's  o'er, . 

And  fold  our  nets  as  we  row  to  the  shore; 

Our  toil  of  labor  being  o'er, 

Huw  sweet  the  boatmen's  welcome  home, 

Home,  home,  home,  the  boatmen's  welcome  home, 

Sweet,  oh  sweet,  the  boatmen's  welcome  home. 

See  how  the  tints  of  daylight  die, 

Soon  we'll  hear  the  tender  sigh  ; 

For  when  the  toil  of  labor's  o'er, 

"We  shall  meet  our  friends  on  shore. 

Then  haste,  let  ns  work  till  the  daylight's  o'er, 

And  fold  our  nets  as  we  row  to  the  shore  ; 

For  fame  or  gold  how. 

No  souud  as  sweet  as  welcome  1 

Home,  home,  home,  the  boatmen's  welcome  home, 

Sweet,  oh  sweet,  the  boatmen's  welcome  home. 

Then  haste,  &c. 


208  SONGS    OF    THE    SEA    AND    NAVY. 


LAND!  LAND! 

The  dangers  of  the  deep  are  past, 
We're  drawing  near  our  home  at  last, 
We  see  its  outline  on  the  sky, 
And  join  the  sailor's  welcome  cry, 
Land  !  Land  !  Land  ! 

Oh  !  joyful  thought  for  weary  men, 
To  tread  the  solid  earth  again  ; 
And  hark  !  the  church  bells  pealing  near, 
From  spire  and  turret,  loud  and  clear, 
As  if  they  rang  so  loud  and  free, 
To  bid  us  welcome  o'er  the  sea  ! 
Land  !  Land  !  Land  ! 

The  cry  makes  every  heart  rejoice, 
Is  this  the  country  of  our  choice  ? 
Is  this  the  long  sought  happy  soil, 
Where  plenty  spreads  the  board  of  toil  ? 
Land  !  Land  !  Land ! 

How  gladly  through  its  paths  we'll  tread, 
With  bounding  step,  uplifted  head, 
And  through  its  wilds  and  forest  roam, 
To  clear  our  farms  and  build  our  home; 
And  sleep  at  night  and  never  dread 
That  morn  shall  see  us  wanting  bread. 
Land  !  Land  !  Land ! 

We've  passed  together  o'er  the  sea, 
In  storm  and  sunshine,  comrades  we, 
But  ere  we  part  let's  gather  round, 
And  shout  with  one  accord  the  sound, 
Of— Land!  Land!  Land! 

The  land  of  rivers  broad  and  deen. 
The  land  where  he  who  sows  may  reap ; 
The  land  where,  if  we  ploughmen  will, 
We  may  possess  the  fields  we  till ; 
So  gather  all,  and  shout  once  more, 
The  Land  !  The  Land  !  Hurrah  for  shore! 


? 


SONUS    uF    THE    SEA    AM-    NAVY.  209 

THE  SAILOR'S  LAST  WHISTLE. 
Whether  sailor  or  not,  for  a  moment  avast, 
Poor  Jack's  inizen-topsail  is  laid  to  the  mast. 
He'll  never  turn  out,  or  more  heave  the  lead,        f 
He's  now  all  aback,  nor  will  sails  shoot  ahead; 
Yet  though  worms  gnaw  his  timbers,  his  vessel's  a  wreck, 
When  he  hears  the  last  whistle,  he'll  jump  upon  deck  ! 
Secur'd  in  his  cabin,  he's  moor'd  in  his  grave, 
Nor  hears  any  more  the  loud  roar  of  the  wave ; 
Press'd  by  death,  he  is  sent  to  the  tender  below, 
Where  seaman  and  lubbers  must  every  one  go. 

Yet  though  worms,  &c. 
With  his  frame  a  mere  hulk,  and  his  reckoning  on  board, 
At  length  he  dropp'd  down  to  Mortality's  road; 
With  Eternity's  ocean  before  him  in  view, 
He  cheerfully  popt  out,  u  My  messmates  adieu." 

For  though  worms,  &c. 

THE  SIEGE  OF  PLATTSBURGH. 

Tune. — Boyne  Water,  or  Barbara  Allen. 

The  first  of  American  Xegro  Songs,  written  in  the  year  1S15,  and  sung  for 

many  seasons  by  Mr.  Tatnall,  of  the  old  circus  company. 

Backside  Albany  stan  Lake  Champlain, 

Little  pond  half  full  o'  water, 
Plat-tes-burgh  dare  too  stand  close  upon  de  Maine, 
Town  small,  but  grow  bigger  too  herearter. 

On  Lake  Champlain, 

Uncle  Sam  set  he  boat ; 
And  Massa  M'Donough  he  sail  'em, 

While  Gen'ral  Macomb 

Make  Plat-tes-burgh  he  home, 
Wid  de  army  whose  courage  never  fail  'em. 
On  'lebenth  day  of  Sep-tein-ber, 

In  eighteen  hund'ed  and  fourteen, 
Gubbener  Probose,  an  he  British  sojer, 

Come  to  Plat-tes-burgh  a  tea-party  courtin. 

An  he  boat  come  too 

Arter  Uncle  Sam  boat ; 
Massa  M'Donough  do  look  sharp  out  de  winder. 

Den  Gen'ral  Macomb 

(Ah  !  he  always  a-home — ) 
Catch  fire  too  jisa    like  a  tinder. 
14 


210  SONGS    OF   THE   SEA   AND    NAVY. 

Bang !  bang !  bang  den  de  cannons  gin  to  roar, 

In  Plat-tes-burgh,  and  all  'bout  dat  quarter; 
Gubbener  Probose  try  he  hand  'pon  de  shore, 
While  he  boat  take  he  luck  'pon  de  water. 

But  Massa  M'Donough 

Knock  he  boat  in  he  head, 
Break  he  heart,  broke  he  shin,  'tove  he  caff  in, 

And  Gen'ral  Macomb 

Start  ole  Probose  home, 
Tot  me  soul  den,  I  must  die  a  laffin. 

Probose  scare  so,  he  lef  all  behine, 

Powder,  ball,  cannon,  tea-pot,  an  kittle; 
Some  say  he  cotch  a  cole — trouble  in  he  mine, 
Cause  he  eat  so  much  raw  and  cole  vittle. 
Uncle  Sam  berry  sorry, 
To  be  sure,  for  he  pain ; 
Wish  he  nuss  heself  up  well  an  hearty, 
For  Gen'ral  Macomb 
And  Massa  M'Donough  home, 
When  he  notion  for  anudder  tea-party. 


THE  SAILOB  BOY'S  DREAM. 

On  the  midnight  ocean  slumbering, 

A  youthful  sailor  lies, 
While  scenes  of  happy  childhood 

In  his  dreaming  soul  arise. 
Still  chiming,  seems  the  Sabbath  bell, 

As  sweetly  as  of  yore  ; 
And  once  again  he  roams  the  fields, 

And  sees  his  cottage  door. 
In  her  arms  his  mother  folds  him, 

With  affection's  fond  caress, 
His  gentle,  bright  eyed  sisters,  too, 

In  raptures  round  him  press. 
His  aged  father  meets  him, 

And  his  young  companions  come, 
To  welcome  him  once  more  to  share 

The  dear  delights  of  home. 

To  welcome.  &c. 


SONGS   OF   THE   SEA   AND    NAVY.  211 

Hark !  what  wild  shriek  dispels  his  dream  ? 

"Whence  comes  that  sound  of  woe  ? 
With  the  storm  loud  thunders  mingle, 

O'er  the  ship  the  billows  flow. 
From  his  hammock  starts  the  sailor, 

He  rushes  to  the  deck, 
The  vessel's  sails  with  lightning  blaze  ! 

She  sinks  a  burning  wreck. 
To  a  mast  the  winds  have  riven, 

The  sailor  madly  clings, 
His  fearful  parting  knell  of  death, 

The  tempest  loudly  rings. 
All  is  dark  and  drear  around, 

Not  a  star  beams  o'er  the  wave, 
As  ocean-spirits  bear  him 

To  the  sailor's  shroudless  grave  ! 

As  ocean-spirits,  &c. 


Oh,  never  at  the  cottage  door, 

Shall  he  again  be  seen, 
Nor  meet  his  playmates  merrily, 

To  sport  upon  the  green. 
In  vain  for  him  the  birds  shall  sing, 

The  hawthorn  deck  the  tree, 
For,  slumb'ring  on  the  sand  he  lies, 

Beneath  the  swelling  sea. 
Oh,  where  are  happy  childhood's  scenes  ? 

Where  now  the  passing  bell  ? 
The  fields  o'er  which  he  used  to  stray '( 

The  cot  he  loved  so  well  ? 
Forever  lost !  yet  still  he  finds, 

A  home  of  peace  and  joy, 
Where  neither  stormy  wind  nor  wave, 

Can  wreck  the  sailor  boy. 

Where  neither,  &c. 


212         SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  NAVY. 

HARRY  BLUFF. 

When  a  boy  Harry  Bluff  left  his  friends  and  his  home 
And  his  dear  native  land  o'er  the  ocean  to  roam ; 
Like  a  sapling  he  sprung,  he  was  fair  to  the  view, 
He  was  a  true  Yankee  oak,  boys,  the  older  he  grew. 
Tho'  his  body  was  weak  and  his  hands  they  were  soft, 
When  the  signal  was  given  he  the  first  went  aloft, 
The  veterans  all  cried,  "  He'll  one  day  lead  the  van," 
For  tho'  rated  a  boy,  he'd  the  soul  of  a  man, 
And  the  heart  of  a  true  Yankee  sailor. 

When  to  manhood  promoted  and  burning  for  fame, 
Still  in  peace  or  in  war,  Harry  Bluff  was  the  same ; 
So  true  to  his  love,  and  in  battle  so  brave,  \ 

The  myrtle  and  laurel  entwin'd  o'er  His^rave. 
For  his  country  he  fell,  when  by  victory  crown'd, 
The  flag,  shot  away,  fell  in  tatters  around,  -   v 

The  foe  thought  he'd  struck,  but  he  sung  out,  ^j&vast !" 
And  Columbia's  colours  he  nailed  to  the  mast, 
And  he  died  like  a  true  Yankee  sailor. 

THE  WHITE  SQUALL. 

The  sea  was  bright,  and  the  bark  rode  well, 
The  breeze  bore  the  tone  of  the  vesper  bell; 
;Twas  a  gallant  bark,  and  a  crew  as  brave        ,      , 
As  ever  were  launch'd  on  the  heaving  wave; 
She  shone  in  the  light  of  declining  day,  i 

And  each  sail  was  set,  and  each  heart  was  gajw 

They  neared  the  land  wherein  beauty  smiles, 
The  sunny  shores  of  the  Grecian  Isles  : 
All  thought  of  home,  of  that  welcome  dear, 
Which  soon  should  greet  each  wanderer's  ear ; 
And  in  fancy  joined  the  social  throng, 
In  the  festive  dance  and  joyous  song. 
A  white  cloud  glides  through  the  azure  sky, — 
What  means  that  wild  despairing  cry  ? 
Farewell  the  vision'd  scenes  of  home  ! — 
That  cry  is  "  Help  !"  where  no  help  can  come ; 
For  the  white  squall  rides  on  the  surging  wave, 
And  the  bark  is  gulph'd  in  an  ocean  grave. 


SONGS   OF   THE   SEA   AND   NAVY.  213 

GRIEVING'S  A  FOLLY. 

Spanking  Jack  was  so  comely,  so  pleasant,  so  jolly, 

Though  winds  blew  great  guns,  still  he'd  whistle  and  sing; 
For  Jack  lov'd  his  friend,  and  was  true  to  his  Molly, 

And  if  honor  gives  greatness,  was  great  as  a  king. 
One  night  as  we  drove  with  two  reefs  in  the  main-sail, 

And  the  scud  came  on  low'ring  upon  a  lee  shore, 
Jack  went  up  aloft  for  to  hand  the  top-ga'nt  sail, 

A  spray  washed  him  off,  and  we  ne'er  saw  him  more  : 
But  grieving's  a  folly, — 
Come,  let  us  be  jolly, 
If  we've  troubles  at  sea,  boys,  we've  pleasure  ashore. 

Whiffling  Tom,  still  of  mischief  or  fun  in  the  middle, 

Through  life,  in  all  weathers,  at  random  would  jog; 
He'd  dance  and  he'd  sing,  and  he'd  play  on  the  fiddle, 

And  swig  with  an  air  his  allowance  of  grog. 
Longside  of  a  Don,  in  the  Terrible  frigate, 

As  yard-arm  and  yard-arm  we  lay  off"  the  shore, 
In  and  out  Whiffling  Tom  did  so  caper  and  jig  it, 

That  his  head'was  shot  off^  and  we  ne'er  saw  him  more. 

*       But  grieving's  a  folly,  &c. 

Bonny  Ben  was  to  each  jolly  messmate,  a  brother, 
"  He  was  manly  and  honest,  good  natured  and  free; 
If  ever  one  tar  was  more  true  than  another, 

To  his  friend  and  his  duty,  that  sailor  was  he. 
One  day,  with  the  davit,  to  weigh  the  kedge  anchor, 

Ben  went  in  the  boat  on  a  bold  craggy  shore, 
He  overboard  tipp'd,  when  a  shark,  and  a  spanker, 

Soon  nipp'd  him  in  two,  and  we  ne'er  saw  him  more. 
But  grieving's  a  folly,  &c. 

But  what  of  it  all,  lads,  shall  we  be  down  hearted 

Because  that  mayhap  we  now  take  our  last  sup, 
Life's  cable  must  one  day  or  other  be  parted, 

And  death  in  safe  moorings  will  bring  us  all  up  : 
But  'tis  always  the  way  on't;  one  scarce  finds  a  brother 

Fond  as  pitch,  honest,  hearty,  and  true  to  the  core, 
But  by  battle,  or  storm,  or  some  damn'd  thing  or  other, 

He's  popp'd  off  the  hooks,  and  we  ne'er  see  him  more 
But  grieving's  a  folly,  &c. 


214  SONGS   OP   THE    SEA   AND   NAVY. 

THE  SEA! 

The  sea,  the  sea,  the  open  sea ! 

The  blue,  the  fresh,  the  ever  free,  the  ever,  ever  free ! 

Without  a  mark,  without  a  bound, 

It  runneth  the  earth's  wide  region  round, 

It  plays  with  the  clouds,  it  mocks  the  skies, 

Or  like  a  cradled  creature  lies. 

I'm  on  the  sea,  I'm  on  the  sea, 

I  am  where  I  would  ever  be, 

With  the  blue  above,  and  the  blue  below, 

And  silence  wheresoe'er  I  go; 

If  a  storm  should  come,  and  awake  the  deep, 

What  matter  ?  what  matter  ?  I  shall  ride  and  sleep. 

I  love,  oh,  how  I  love  to  ride ; 

On  the  fierce  and  foaming,  bursting,  billowy  tide, 

When  every  mad  wave  drowns  the  moon, 

Or  whistles  aloud  his  tempest  tune, 

And  tells  how  goeth  the  world  below, 

And  why  the  south-west  blast  doth  blow. 

I  never  was  on  the  dull  tame  shore, 

But  I  loved  the  great  sea  more  and  more,' 

And  back  I  flew  to  her  billowy  breast, 

Like  a  bird  that  seeketh  its  mother's  nest; 

And  a  mother  she  was  and  is  to  me, 

For  I  was  born,  was  born  on  the  open  sea. 

The  waves  were  white,  and  red  the  morn, 

In  the  noisy  hour,  the  hour,  the  noisy  hour  whe^i  I  was  born 

The  whale  it  whistled,  the  porpoise  roll'd, 

And  the  dolphins  bared  their  backs  of  gold, 

And  never  was  heard  such  an  outcry  wild, 

As  welcomed  to  life  the  ocean  child. 

I  have  lived  since  then  in  calm  :tnd  strife, 

Eull  fifty  summers  a  rover's  life, 

With  wealth  to  spend  and  power  to  range, 

But  never  have  sought  or  sighed  for  change; 

And  death,  whenever  he  comes  to  me, 

Shall  come,  shall  come  on  the  wide,  unbounded  sea ! 


SONGS   OF   TIIE    SEA    AND    NAVY.  216 

THE  ANCHOR'S  WEIGH'D. 

The  tear  fell  gently  from  her  eye, 

When  last  we  parted  on  the  shore; 
My  bosom  heav'd  with  many  a  sigh, 
To  think  I  ne'er  should  see  her  more. 
"Dear  youth,"  she  cried,  "and  canst  thou  haste  away? 
My  heart  will  break,  a  little  moment  stay; 
Alas,  I  cannot,  cannot  part  from  thee  I" 
"The  anchor's  weigh'd,  farewell,  remember  me." 

u  "Weep  not,  my  love,"  I  trembling  said, 
"Doubt  not  a  constant  heart  like  mine, 
I  ne'er  shall  meet  another  maid, 

Whose  charms  can  fix  my  heart  like  thine  " 
"Go,  then,"  she  cried,  "but  let  thy  constant  mind 
Oft  think  of  her,  you  leave  in  tears  behind  !" 
"Dear  maid,  this  last  embrace  my  pledge  shall  be, 
The  anchor's  weigh'd,  farewell,  remember  me!" 

A  WET  SHEET  AND  A  FLOWING  SEA. 
A  wet  sheet !  and  a  flowing  sea, 
And  a  wind  that  follows  fast, 
And  fills  the  white  and  rustling  sail, 

And  bends  the  gallant  mast; 
And  bends  the  gallant  mast,  my  boys, 

While  like  an  eagle  free, 
Away,  our  good  ship  flies,  and  leaves 
Columbia  on  her  lea. 

Oh,  give  me  a  wet  sheet,  a  flowing  sea, 

And  a  wind  that  follows  fast, 
And  fills  the  white  and  rustling  sail, 
And  bends  the  gallaot  mast. 
For  a  soft  and  gentle  wind, 

I  heard  a  fair  one  cry. 
But  give  to  me  tlie  roaring  breeze, 
And  white  waves  heaving  high; 
And  white  waves  heaving  high,  my  boys! 

The  good  ship  tight  and  free; 
The  world  of  waters  is  our  home, 
And  merry  men  are  we. 
Oh,  give  me,  &c. 


216         SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  NAVY. 

There's  tempest  in  yon  horned  moon, 

And  lightning  in  yon  cloud, 
And  hark  the  music,  mariners, 

The  wind  is  piping  loud  ; 
The  wind  is  piping  loud,  my  boys, 

The  lightning  flashes  free  ; 
While  the  hollow  oak  our  palace  is, 

Our  heritage  the  sea  ! 
Oh,  give  me,  &c. 

A  HEALTH  TO  THE  OUTWARD  BOUND. 

Fill  !  fill  the  sparkling  brimmer, 

Fill,  for  the  moments  fly, 
The  stars'  weary  light  grows  dimmer, 

And  the  moon  fades  away  from  the  sky. 
Fill,  for  the  signal  flag  is  up, 

And  the  wind  is  veering  round  ; 
In  haste  let  us  pledge  our  parting  cup, 

To  the  health  of  the  outward  bound. 
In  haste  let  us  pledge  our  parting  cup, 

To  the  health  of  the  outward  bound. 

Fill  high  !  this  hour  to-morrow, 

Nor  toast  nor  jest  shall  be, 
But  a  few  shall  meet  in  sorrow, 

While  the  many  plough  the  sea. 
Then,  while  we're  all  together, 

Give  the  toast !  let  it  circle  round  : 
Full  sails  and  prosperous  weather, 

And  a  health  to  the  outward  bound. 
Full  sails  and  prosperous  weather 

And  a  health  to  the  outward  bound. 

Let  no  adieu  be  spoken, 

To  weep  is  a  woman's  part, 
Nor  give  we  a  farewell  token, 

But  a  health  from  our  inmost  heart, 
And  oft  when  the  wind  blows  free, 

And  the  waves  below  resound, 
Sing  in  gladsome  melody, 

A  health  to  the  outward  bound. 
Full  sails,  &c. 


60NGS   OF  THE   SEA  AND   NAVY.  217 

THE  LIGHT  BARQUE. 

Off  !  said  the  stranger;  off,  off,  and  away, 
And  away  flew  the  light  barque  o'er  the  silv'ry  bay. 
We  must  reach,  ere  to-morrow,  the  far  distant  wave, 
The  billows  we'll  laugh  at,  the  tempest  we'll  brave. 
The  young  roving  lovers,  their,  vows  have  been  given, 
Unsmil'd  o'er  by  mortals,  but  hallow'd  in  heaven ; 
She  was  Italy's  daughter,  I  knew  by  her  eye, 
It  wore  the  bright  beam  that  illumines  the  sky. 
Off !  said  the  stranger,  &c. 

And  she  has  forsaken  her  palace  and  halls, 
For  the  chill  breeze  and  the  light  which  falls 
O'er  the  pure  wave,  from  the  heavens  above, 
And  their  guiding  star  was  the  bright  star  of  love. 
Off  !  said  the  stranger,  &c. 


LARBOARD  WATCH. 

Music  published  by  Ditson,  227  Washington  St.,  Boston. 

At  dreary  midnight's  cheerless  hour, 
Deserted  e'en  by  Cynthia's  beam, 

When  tempests  beat  and  torrents  pour, 
And  twinkling  stars  no  longer  gleam; 

The  wearied  sailor  spent  with  toil 

Clings  firmly  to  the  weather  shrouds } 

And  still  the  lengthened  hour  to  guile, 

And  still  the  lengthen'd  hour  to  guile, 
Sings  as  he  views  the  gath'ring  clouds, 
Sings  as  he  views  the  gath'ring  clouds, 
Larboard  Watch  Ahoy  ! 
Larboard  Watch  Ahoy  ! 

But  who  can  speak  the  joy  he  feels, 
While  o'er  the  foam  his  vessel  reels, 
And  his  tir'd  eye-lids  slumb'ring  fall 
He  rouses  at  the  welcome  call 
Of  Larboard  Watch  Ahoy  ! 

Larboard  Watch  !  Larboard  Watch  ! 
Larboard  Watch  Ahoy  ! 


218  SONGS   OF   THE   SEA   AND   NAVY. 

With  anxious  care  lie  eyes  each  wave, 
That  swelling  threatens  to  o'erwhelm, 

And  his  storm  beaten  barque  to  save, 
Directs  with  skill  the  faithful  helm. 

With  joy  he  drinks  the  cheering  grog, 
'Mid  storms  that  bellow  loud  and  hoarse, 

With  joy  he  heaves  the  reeling  log, 
And  marks  the  lee-way  and  the  course 
Marks  the  lee-way  and  the  course, 
Larboard  Watch  Ahoy ! 
Larboard  Watch  Ahoy ! 

But  who  can  speak  the  joys  he  feels,  &c. 


A  LIFE  ON  THE  OCEAN  WAVE. 

A  life  on  the  ocean  wave  ! 

A  home  on  the  rolling  deep  ! 
Where  the  scattered  waters  rave, 

And  the  winds  their  revels  keep. 
Like  an  eagle  caged  I  pine, 

On  this  dull,  unchanging  shore, 
Oh  !  give  me  the  flashing  brine, 
*   The  spray  and  the  tempest's  roar. 

Once  more  on  the  deck  I  stand, 

Of  my  own  swift  gliding  craft; 
Set  sail;  farewell  to  the  land, 

The  gale  follows  far  abaft. 
We  shoot  through  the  sparkling  foam, 

Like  an  ocean  bird  set  free, 
Like  the  ocean  bird  our  home 

We'll  find  far  out  on  the  sea. 

The  land  is  no  longer  in  view, 

The  clouds  have  begun  to  frown, 
But  with  a  stout  vessel  and  crew, 

We'll  say  let  the  storm  come  down. 
And  the  song  of  our  hearts  shall  be, 

While  the  wind  and  the  waters  rave, 
A  life  on  the  heaving  sea, 

A  home  on  the  bounding  wave. 


SONGS   OF   THE    SEA   AND    NAVY.  219 

LAND  HO! 

FrLL  high  the  brimmer  !  the  land  is  in  sight, 

We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night; 

The  cold  cheerless  ocean  in  safety  we've  past, 

And  the  warm  genial  earth  glads  our  vision  at  last : 

In  the  land  of  the  stranger  true  hearts  we  shall  find, 

To  soothe  us  in  absence  of  those  left  behind. 

Then  fill  high  the  brimmer !  the  land  is  in  sight, 

We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night. 

Fill  high  the  brimmer  !  till  morn  we'll  remain, 

Then  part  in  the  hope  to  meet  one  day  again, 

Round  the  hearth-stone  of  home,  in   the  land  of  our  birth 

The  holiest  spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ! 

Dear  country,  our  thoughts  are  more  constant  to  thee, 

Than  the  steel  to  the  star,  or  the  stream  to  the  sea. 

Then  fill  high  the  brimmer  !  the  land  is  in  sight, 

We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night. 

Fill  high  the  brimmer  !  the  wine  sparkles  rise, 
Like  tears  from  the  fountain  of  joy,  to  the  eyes; 
May  rain-drops  that  fall  from  the  storm-clouds  of  care, 
Melt  away  in  the  sun-beaming  smiles  of  the  fair. 
Drink  deep  to  the  chimes  of  the  nautical  bells, 
To  woman,  God  bless  her,  wherever  she  dwells  ! 
Then  fill  high  the  brimmer!  the  land  is  in  sight, 
We'll  be  happy,  if  never  again,  boys,  to-night. 

FAR  O'ER  THE   DEEP  BLUE  SEA. 

The  moon  is  beaming  brightly,  love, 

Upon  the  deep  blue  sea  j 
A  trusty  crew  is  waiting  near, 

For  thee,  dear  girl,  for  thee  : 
Then  leave  thy  downy  couch,  my  love, 

And  with  thy  sailor  flee, 
His  gallant  bark  shall  bear  thee  safe, 
Far  o'er  the  deep  blue 

Far  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea  ; 

Far  o'er  the  deep,  the  deep,  the  deep  blue  sea. 
The  storm-bird  sleeps  upon  the  rocks, 

No  angry  surges  roar; 
No  sound  disturbs  the  tranquil  deep. 
Npl  '  oar  : 


220  SONGS   OP  THE   SEA   AND   NAVY. 

No  watchful  eye  is  on  thee  now, 

Come,  dearest,  hie  with  me, 
And  cheer  a  daring  sailor's  love, 

Far  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea. 
Far  o'er,  &c. 

She  comes,  she  comes,  with  trembling  steps, 

Oh  !  happy  shall  we  be, 
When  landed  safe  on  other  shores, 

From  every  danger  free ; 
Now  speed  ye  on,  my  gallant  bark, 

Our  hopes  are  all  in  thee, 
Swift,  bear  us  to  our  peaceful  home, 
Far  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea. 
Far  o'er,  &c. 

THE  PILOT. 

"  Oh,  pilot !  'tis  a  fearful  night, 

There's  danger  on  the  deep, 
I'll  come  and  pace  the  deck  with  thee, 

I  do  not  dare  to  sleep." 
"  G-o  down  !"  the  sailor  cried,  "  go  down, 

This  is  no  place  for  thee  ; 
Fear  not !  but  trust  in  Providence, 

Wherever  thou  mayst  be." 

"Ah!  pilot,  dangers  often  met 

We  all  are  apt  to  slight, 
And  thou  hast  known  these  raging  waves,  ' 

But  to  subdue  their  might." 
"  It  is  not  apathy,"  he  cried, 

u  That  gives  this  strength  to  me  : 
Fear  not !  but  trust  in  Providence, 

Wherever  thou  mayst  be. 
"  On  such  a  night  the  sea  engulf 'd 

My  father's  lifeless  form ; 
My  only  brother's  boat  went  down 

In  just  so  wild  a  storm  ; 
And  such,  perhaps,  may  be  my  fate, — 

But  still  I  say  to  thee, 
Fear  not !  but  trust  in  Providence, 

Wherever  thou  mayst  be." 


SONGS    OF    THE    SEA    AND    NAVY.  221 

THE  YANKEE  MIDSHIPMAN. 

I'M  here  or  there  a  jolly  dog, 
At  land  or  sea  I'm  all  agog 

To  fight,  or  kiss,  or  touch  the  grog, 

For  I'm  a  jovial  midshipman, 

A  smart,  young  midshipman, 

A  little,  airy  midshipman  : 
To  fight,  or  kiss,  or  touch  the  grog, 

Oh,  I'm  a  jovial  midshipman. 

My  honor's  free  from  stain  or  speck, 
The  foremast  men  are  at  my  beck, 
With  pride  I  walk  the  quarter  deck, 

For  I'm  a  smart,  young  midshipman,  &c. 

I  mix  the  pudding  for  our  mess, 
In  uniform  then  neatly  dress, 
The  captain  asks,  no  need  to  press, 

"  Come  dine  with  me,  young  midshipman,"  &c. 
AY  hen  gallant  Perry  comes  on  board, 
By  all  Columbia's  sons  adored, 
From  him  I  sometimes  pass  the  word, 

Though  I'm  an  humble  midshipman,  &c. 

THE  TEMPEST. 

Wl  were  crowded  iu  the  cabin, 

Not  a  soul  would  dare  to  sleep, 
It  was  midnight  on  the  waters, 

And  the  storm  was  o'er  the  deep; 
'Tis  a  fearful  thing  in  winter 

To  be  shattered  by  the  blast, 
And  to  hear  the  trumpet  thunder, 

"  Cut  away  the  mast  !"  * 

We  shuddered  there  in  silence, 

For  the  stoutest  held  his  breath, 
While  the  hungry  sea  was  roaring, 

And  the  breakers  talked  with  death; 
Sad  thus  we  sat  in  silence, 

All  busy  with  our  prayers, 
"We're  lost!"  the  captain  shouted, 

As  he  staggered  down  the  stairs. 


SONGS   OF   THE   SEA   AND   NAVY. 

But  his  little  daughter  whispered, 

As  she  took  the  icy  hand, 
"  Is  not  God  upon  the  waters, 

Just  the  same  as  on  the  land  ?" 
Then  we  kissed  the  little  maiden, 

And  we  spake  of  better  cheer, 
As  we  anchored  safe  in  harbor, 

When  the  sun  was  shining  clear. 
Chorus — And  a  shout  rose  loud  and  joyous, 
As  we  grasped  the  friendly  hand, 
God  is  upon  the  waters, 

Just  the  same  as  on  the  land. 


ROW,  ROW. 

Row  !  row  !  homeward  we  steer 

Twilight  falls  o'er  us, 
Hark  !  hark  !  music  is  near, 

Friends  glide  before  us. 
Song  lightens  our  labor, 

Sing  as  onward  we  go ; 
Keep  each  with  his  neighbor 

Time  as  we  flow. 
Chorus — Row  !  row  !  homeward  we  go, 

Twilight  falls  o'er  us. 
Row  !  row  !  sing  as  we  flow, 

Day  flies  before  us. 

Row  !  row  !  sing  as  we  go, 

Nature  rejoices ; 
Hark  !  how  the  hills  as  we  flow 

Echo  our  voices ; 
Still  o'er  the  dark  waters 

Far  away  we  must  roam, 
Ere  Italy's  daughters 

Welcome  us  home. 
Row,  row,  &c. 

Row  !  row  !  see  in  the  west 
Lights  dimly  burning, 

Friends  in  yon  harbor  of  rest 
Wait  our  returning; 


BONGS    OF    THE   SEA   AND    NAVY  223 

See  now  they  burn  clearer, — 

Keep  time  with  the  o:ir ; 
Now,  now  we  are  nearer 

That  happy  shore. 
Row,  row,  etc. 

Home,  home,  daylight  is  o'er, 

Friends  stand  before  us  ; 
Yet  ere  our  boat  touch  the  shore 

Once  more  the  chorus : 
Row,  row,  &c. 

GUNPOWDER  TEA. 

Tune—"  Molly  pat  the  kettle  on.' 

Johnny  Bull,  and  many  more, 
Soon,  they  say,  are  coming  o'er — 
As  soon  as  e'er  they  reach  our  shore, 

They  must  have  their  tea. 
So  go  and  put  the  kettle  on, 
Be  sure  to  blow  the  bellows  strong; 
Load  our  cannon,  every  one, 

With  strong  gunpowder  tea. 

They'll  get  it  strong,  they  need  not  dread, 
Sweetened  well  with  sugar  of  lead; 
Perhaps  it  may  get  in  their  head, 
And  spoil  their  taste  for  tea. 
So  go,  &c. 

But  should  they  set  a  foot  on  shore, 
Their  cups  we'd  fill  them  o'er  and  o'er, 
Such  as  John  Bull  drank  here  before — 
Nice  Saratoga  tea. 
So  go,  &c. 

Then  let  them  come  as  soon's  they  can; 
They'll  find  us  at  our  posts,  each  man; 
Their  hides  we  will  completely  tan, 
Before  they  get  their  tea. 
So  go,  &c. 


COMIC  SONGS. 


THE  TIMES  AND  FASHIONS  OF  I860. 

"Written  expressly  for  this  work. 
Tune — Bow,  wow,  wow. 

On  earth's  affairs,  and  fashion's  airs, 

Pray  listen  while  I  sing  now, 
For  ev'ry  day  some  new  display, 

Or  incident  does  bring  now. 
We've  new  inventions,  State  contentions, 

From  one  earth's  end  to  the  other, 
And  ev'ry  year  brings  wonders  near, 

More  wonderful  than  to'ther. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  wonders  increase, 

And  ne'er  will  cease  to  bow,  wow,  wow. 

In  Europe  we  have  States  contending, 

Every  day  and  hour — 
With  armies,  fleets,  and  arms  to  hold 

The  balance  of  earth's  power. 
Each  tries  to  terrify  the  rest, 

By  threats,  and  schemes,  and  tricks,  now; 
And  the  more  they  try  each  strategy, 

The  more  they're  in  in  a  fix  now. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

(224) 


COMIC    SONGS.  225 

They've  guns  that  shoot  above  ten  miles, 

And  hit  a  dozen  marks,  now, 
Steam  batteries  with  rows  of  guns, 

Like  teeth  within  a  shark,  now. 
Machines  that  reap  a  field  at  once, 

Or  mow  the  largest  meadow, 
And  sometimes  too — if  folks  say  true 

Mow  off  the  mower's  heads,  now. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

We've  telegraphs  that  span  the  earth, 

And  travel  under  water, 
And  news  before  it  happens,  now, 

Is  heard  in  ev'ry  quarter. 
We've  ships  about  a  mile  in  length, 

To  navigate  the  seas,  now, 
Whole  nations  can  live  on  a  ship, 

And  travel  where  thev  please,  now. 
Bow,  wow.  wow,  &c. 
We've  show  bills  about  each 

Stretched  out  some  hundred  feet,  now, 
With  the  name  of  some  new  play  or  show       \ 

Reaching  from  street  to  street,  now. 
Newspaper  advertisements  too, 

To  strike  all  people's  eyes  meant, 
And  oft  the  only  news  we  read, 

Is  some  shop's  advertisement. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 
We've  patent  stoves  that  heat  themselves, 

Without  the  use  of  fuel, 
They  all  do  their  own  cooking,  too, 

From  a  roast  goose  to  a  gruel. 
We've  famed  machines  for  sowing  grain, 

Machines  for  sewing  breeches, 
And  if  the  world  ain't  well  sewed  up, 

It's  not  for  want  of  stitches. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

We've  patent  levers  strong  enough, 

To  pull  earth  upside  down,  sir, 
Steam  fire-engines,  that  fire  up, 

To  put  a  fire  dozen,  sir. 

u 


226  COMIC   SONGS. 

We've  patent  wigs,  for  worn  old  prigs,  (imitating  old  men,) 

To  give  youth  to  each  feature, 
And  ladies  with  their  patting  hearts, 

Are  PATENT  RIGHTS  from  NATURE. 

Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

PART  II. 

We've  patent  rail  cars  in  our  streets, 

To  save  the  people's  heels,  now, 
They  jingle  up  and  round  about, 

Like  parlors  upon  wheels,  now; 
We've  patent  pills  to  cure  life's  ills, 

Folks  now  don't  die,  till  their  death,  now, 
We've  patent  tubes  to  help  sick  people 

Draw  in  their  last  breath,  now. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

Our  natty  gents  wear  half  Scotch  caps, 

And  pants  like  zebra's  stripe,  now, 
Gold  dollars  in  their  shirt  bosoms, 

And  two  yards  of  "  white  wipes,"  now, 
With  a  Raglan  coat,  like  shirts  on  poles, 

And  Shanghai  shawls  or  cloaks,  sir, 
And  neck  ties  like  a  dog's  collar,  now, 

Squeezed  round  a  paper  choker. 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

With  hair  short  as  a  scrubbing  brush, 

And  long  tufts  on  the  throat,  now, 
They  seem  to  wear  the  under  jaw 

Of  some  dead  Billy  Goat,  now. 
With  spread  eagle  mustachios — 

A  brass  cable  in  their  fobs,  now, 
And  hats  like  churns  turn'd  upside  down, 

Oh,  don't  they  come  the  snob,  now  ? 
Bow,  wow,  wow,  &c. 

Our  ladies,  misses,  wives,  and  maids, 

What  shall  we  say  of  them,  now  ? 
High  heel'd  shoes  tight — their  toes  to  bite, 

They  scarcely  can  cry  hem,  now. 


COMIC   SONGS.  227 

Umbrella  flats,  clam  shell  shaped  hats, 

Hoop  skirts  to  scare  the  moon,  sirs, 
They  look  like  monster  fairies,  sirs, 

Just  landed  in  balloons,  now, 
But  let  them  all  wear  what  they  please, 

They'll  please  with  what  they  wear,  sirs. 
And  the  gents  will  still  stand  close  by  them, 

As  all  creation's  Fair,  sirs. 
Bow,  wow,  wow. 

Silas  S.  Steele. 

BARNEY,  LET  THE  GALS  ALONE. 

THE    GREAT  JACK  BARNES'    CELEBRATED    CHARACTER   SONG, 
WITH    ADDITIONS. 

Tune— Polly,  Put  the  Kettle  on. 

Oh  !  Judy  leads  me  such  a  life, 
Oh  !  Judy  leads  me  such  a  life, 
The  old  boy  ne'er  had  such  a  wife, 

What  can  the  matter  be  ? 
For  if  I  sings  the  funny  song, 
Of  "  Polly,  put  the  kettle  on," 
A  pretty  kettle  offish  I'm  in, 
The  moment  she  hears  me. 
Spoken — Yes,  she  leads  me  the  deuce  of  a  life,  that's  the 
truth  on't — she  never  goes  to  church,  but  what  she  makes  me 
walk  behind  her  with  her  parasol,  smelling  bottle,  and  hymn 
book,  and  if  I  happen  to  cast  a  duck's  eye  at  the  girls  as  they 
pass  by,  she's  sure  to  yell  out — 

Barney,  let  the  girls  alone, 
You  Barney,  let  the  girls  alone, 
Why  don't  you  let  the  girls  alone, 
And  let  'cm  quiet  be  ? 

Put  the  muffins  down  to  roast, 
Put  the  muffins  down  to  ro 
Blow  the  fire  and  make  the  toast, 

And  we'll  have  some  tea. 

Ah  !  Barney,  you're  a  wicked  boy, 

Ah  !   Barney,  you're  a  wicked  boy, 

And  you  will  always  kiss  and  toy, 

With  all  the  girls  you  see. 


228  COMIC   SONGS. 

Spoken — But  if  you  don't  want  your  hair  pulled  out  by 
the  roots,  your  head  pulled  off  your  shoulders,  and  your 
shoulders  pulled  off  your  body,  why  sing, 

Chorus — Barney,  let  the  girls  alone, 

Oh,  Barney,  let  the  girls  alone. 
Barney  rock  the  cradle,  0  ! 
Barney  rock  the  cradle,  O  ! 
Or  else  you'll  get  the  ladle,  0  !, 
When  Judy  harps  to-day. 
Spoken — Barney,  rock  that  cradle,  or  I'll  break  your  pate 
with  the  ladle;  yes,  you  dog,  if  you  don't  mind  your  P's  and 
Q's,  I'll  comb  your  head  with  a  three-legged  stool.     You  see, 
the  other  afternoon  I  was  ax'd  out  to  take  a  comfortable  dish 
of  four  shilling  shouchong  tea,  and  I  sat  alongside   of  Miss 
Polly  Spriggins ;  I  saw  she  got  quite  smitten  with  my  counte- 
nance— says  she  to  me,  Mr.  Barney,  will  you  have  a  game  of 
hunt  the  slipper  ?     With  all  my  heart,  says  I.     Then  my  wife 
bawled  out,  from  the  other  end  of  the  parlour, 
Mr.  Barney,  leave  the  girls  alone, 
Mr.  Barney,  leave  the  girls  alone, 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Judy  she  loves  whiskey,  0  ! 
Judy  she  loves  whiskey,  0  ! 
She  goes  to  uncle's  shop  at  night, 
And  spends  an  hour  or  two ; 
Then,  Barney,  what  must  Barney  do, 
But  take  a  drop  of  whiskey,  too, 
And  toast  the  girl  that's  kind  and  true 
For  that's  the  way  with  me  ? 

Spoken — Yes,  that  is  the  way  we  go,  to  be  sure,  and  to  say 
the  truth  on  it,  it  is  none  of  the  pleasantest.  You  see  I  loves 
a  good  dinner,  but  somehow  or  other  we  don't  get  much  in  the 
week  days,  a  pig's  foot  and  a  carrot,  no  great  choice;  but  on 
Sunday  we  always  have  a  shoulder  of  mutton  stuck  round  witli 
turnips.  I  like  a  piece  of  the  brown,  but  my  wife,  she  always 
tucks  me  off  with  the  knuckle  bone,  or  the  shoulder  blade,  or 
a  piece  of  the  dry  flap,  to  the  tune  of 

Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  !     (repeat) 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 
And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 


COMIC    SONGS.  229 

SONG  OF  THE  TURF, 

OR  THE  RACE  COURSE. 

To  the  course  now  my  dear  boys,  if  for  sport  you  are  bent, 
The  match  soon  comes  off,  and  the  morn's  far  spent; 
])elays  a  dull  Trotter,  whom  Time  the  fleet  steed, 
Will  beat  Flora  Temple  or  Lantern  in  speed. 
To  the  course  then  away,  go  it  which  ground  you  please, 
The  Suffolk,  the  Union,  South  End  Park,  or  Point  Breeze; 
We're  off  for  the  sport  boys,  no  matter  who  pairs, 
If  we  match  with  good  fellows  and  distance  our  cares. 

Spoken. — Now  we're  off,  and  in  for  an  afternoon's  exhilara- 
tory  merriment?  Crack  go  the  whips,  and  crack  go  the 
vehicles.  Look  what  a  human  race,  and  even  a  woman  race, 
to  get  first  to  the  race  ground.  Wheels,  heads,  and  heels,  go 
shimbang  together.  Look  out  there,  Mister,  can't  you  keep 
to  the  right?  Yes  sir-ee,  over  the  left.  {A  woman's  voice.') 
Why  goodness  gracious,  if  yonder  ain't — yes  it  is  my  husband, 
who  promised  to  take  me  to  a  pic  nic  this  afternoon,  and  now 

lie's  off  to  the  races  to ;  but  he  shan't  go,  I'll  drag 

him  back,  neck,  heels,  and  coach  wheels.  Now,  my  dear 
wife,  do  go  along.  No  I  won't,  sir.  You  must  come  along, 
(«(Z  lib.  imitation  of  a  squabble,)  I  say  I  will.  The  gray  mare 
seems  to  be  the  better  horse.  There,  woman,  help,  gentleman ! 
Haven't  you  madam  ?     Where  on  earth  are  you  all  going  ? 

We're  off  for  the  sport  no  matter  who  pairs, 

So  we  match  with  good  fellows  and  distance  our  cares; 

At  the  course  now  we  land,  all  by  fits  and  by  starts, 

Which  groan  'neath  the  weight  of  gigs,  coaches,  and  carts. 

See  in  strife  for  the  view  now  all  parties  agog, 

;Till  in  dust  all  are  hidden  like  ships  in  a  fog, 

One  shouts  for  Tacony,  another  Black  Hawk, 

Nicodemus  the  Hero,  or  Daniel  so  fair, 

While  others  crow  out  for  Jack  Rossiter's  mare. 

Spoken. — Now  comes  the  lug  and  tug  of  war,  confusion  of 
tongues,  and  the  straining  of  lungs.  I  say,  Mister,  can't  you 
give  me  a  place  on  your  buss?  No  sir,  got  nineteen  more  than 
it  will  hold  inside,  and  about  as  many  on  the  wheels.    Take 


230  COMIC   SONGS. 

your  foot  off  of  my  boots  will  you.  You  take  your  foot  off 
the  ground  then,  a  feller  must  have  a  footing  somewhere. 
{A  woman's  voice.)  Oh,  murder,  my  hoops  are  getting  all 
squashed,  (in  a  Yankee  voice,)  I  reckon  as  lieow  you're  a 
tarnal  squash  to  wear  'em.  Here,  Police,  take  this  feller's 
hand  out  of  my  pocket.  Beg  pardon  sir,  but  we're  so  jammed 
up,  I  thought  it  was  my  own,  but  I  pocket  the  insult.  Look, 
hurrah !  there  they  come  up  to  the  starting  post,  500  on 
Flora.  I'm  with  you  ten  to  five  on  the  Princess,  neck  or 
nothing,  for 

We're  in  for  the  sport  no  matter  who  pairs,  &c. 

At  the  post  now  arrived,  clear  the  way,  pants  each  heart, 

Hark,  there  goes  the  signal,  and  off  they  now  start; 

See  Flora's  ahead,  now  the  betting  runs  high, 

While  the  shouts  ring  the  course,  as  the  coursers  pass  by, 

Now  on  they  still  fly  with  the  speed  of  the  wind, 

One  steed  like  an  eagle  leaves  t'other  behind, 

Still  along  see  them  spring  till  the  close  of  the  heat, 

Huzza,  they  rein  in,  and  old  Time's  fairly  beat. 

Spoken. — Neck  and  neck,rthey  go  it  tail  and  tail, 
Snorting  like  locomotives  on  the  rail, 
See  Flora  comes  out  like  a  Telegraph, 
Two  minutes,  twenty-three  seconds  and  a  half. 

Hurrah  for  the  stakes.     Let  those  laugh  who  win,  for 

We're  off  for  the  sport  no  matter  who  pairs, 

So  we  match  with  good  fellows  and  distance  our  cares. 


TRUST  TO  LUCK. 

Trust  to  luck,  trust  to  luck,  and  stare  fate  in  the  face, 
Sure  the  heart  must  be  aisy  if  its  in  the  right  place; 
Let  the  world  wag  away,  and  your  friends  turn  foes — 
When  your  pockets  are  dry,  and  thread-bare  are  your  clothes; 
Should  woman  deceive  you,  when  you  trusted  her  heart, 
Ne'er  a  sigh  will  relieve  you,  but  adds  to  the  smart. 
Trust  to  luck,  trust  to  luck,  stare  shame  in  the  face, 
Sure  the  heart  must  be  aisy,  if  its  in  the  right  place. 


COMIC    SONGS.  2S1 

Trust  to  luck,  trust  to  luck,  and  you'll  never  forget, 
Bright  morning  will  follow  the  darkest  night  yet; 

the  wealthy  look  grand,  and  the  proud  pass  you  by, 
With  the  back  of  their  fist  and  disdain  iu  their  eye; 

Snap  your  fingers  and  smile,  let  them  pass  ou  their  way, 
But  remember  the  while  every  dog  has  his  day. 

Trust  to  luck,  &c. 

George  Jamisox. 

TRUST  TO  PLUCK. 

A   PARODY    ON    "TRUST   TO   LUCK." 

Sung  with  great  applause  by  Bishop  Buckley. 

Trust  to  pluck,  trust  to  pluck,  when  you're  in  a  tight  place, 
And  the  head  nice  and  greasy  will  reach  the  right  place, 
Vrhen  you're  "  hard  up,"  and  dry,  and  your  friends  thumb 

their  nose, 
"When  you  hain't  got  a  reel,  and  there's  holes  in  your  toes. 
Should  the  barber  who  shaved  you  point  to  the  old  score, 
Should  the  landlonWho  trusted  you  show  you  the  door, 
Trust  to  pluck,  trust  to  pluck,  when  you're  in  a  tight  place, 
And  your  head  slick  and  greasy  will  reach  the  right  place. 

Trust  to  pluck,  trust  to  pluck,  when  you're  neck  deep  in  debt, 
And  the  chums  will  fly  from  you  when  they  see  you're  "  dead 

set," 
Let  the  lucky  pass  by  you,  and  cut  you  shanghai, 
With  a  portmonkey  filled  and  a  le^r  in  the  eye, 
Tuck  the  crown  of  your  hat,  toss  your  head  up  and  sing, 
And  cry  out  that  the  bullfrog  has  never  a  wing. 

Trust  to  pluck,  &c. 

HAVE  YOU  SEEN  MY  SISTER? 

Say,  my  lovely  friends,  have  you  any  pity, 

At  your  finger  ends  ?  then  listen  to  ray  ditty; 

Our  Kate  has  gone  away,  last  Thursday  night  we  missed  her, 

Good  people  do  not  smile, — say,  have  you  seen  my  sister  ? 

If  you  have  her  seen,  I  hope  you  will  advise  her, 

To  return  to  me,  or  I  must  advertise  her; 

Her  waist  is  very  thick,  her  stays  give  her  a  twister, 

Now  tell  me,  b'hoys  and  g'hals,  have  you  seen  my  sister? 


232  COMIC   SONGS 

She  squints  with  both  her  eyes,  in  a  manner  very  shocking, 
She's  got  a  mouth  for  pies,  and  wears  no  shoes  or  stockings; 
I'm  afraid  she's  gone  astray,  and  some  chap  did  enlist  her, 
I'm  afraid  she's  gone  astray ;  say,  have  you  seen  my  sister? 

She  wants  her  two  front  teeth,  you'd  see  it  when  she'd  titter, 
She's  got  such  little  feet,  Columbia's  shoes  won't  fit  her; 
She  wears  no  cap  at  all,  but  a  great  big  muslin  whister, 
Now  tell  me  once  for  all,  have  you  seen  my  sister  ? 

Her  figure's  straight  and  tall,  her  conduct's  very  proper, 
She's  well  provided  for,  she's  eighteen  pence  in  copper, 
Now  if  you  have  her  seen,  I'm  sure  you  could  not  have  miss'd 

her, 
For  she's  very  much  like  me ;  now,  have  you  seen  my  sister  ? 

Her  mouth  is  very  small,  her  nose  is  straight  and  natty, 
I  tell  you  once  for  all,  this  girl  is  very  pretty ; 
Now  I'll  sing  you  another  song,  and  it  shall  be  a  twister, 
If  you  will  go  with  me,  and  help  me  find  my  sister. 

SILENT   SAM;   OR   I   NEVER  SAYS  NOTHING  TO 
NOBODY. 

What  a  shocking  world  this  is  for  scandal, 

The  people  grow  worse  ev'ry  day; 
Every  thing  serves  for  a  handle, 

To  take  people's  good  names  away. 
In  backbiting  and  railing,  each  labors, 

A  low  fault  of  others  to  show  body ; 
I  could  tell  such  a  tale  of  my  neighbors, 

But  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 

'Tis  a  snug  house  in  which  we  reside, 

The  people  who  live  in  the  next  door, 
.  Are  bother'd  completely  with  pride, 

Such  as  I  never  saw  before. 
Outside  of  doors  they  don't  roam, 

A  large  sum  of  money  they  owe  body ; 
People  call,  but  don't  find  them  at  home, 
But  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 


COMIC   SONGS.  233 

There's  the  baker  who  lives  in  great  style, 

Whose  wife  is  a  deuce  of  a  fright, 
Of  new  dresses  she  has  a  great  pile, 

And  they  sleep  out  of  town  ev'ry  night. 
Country  cottage  complete  in  a  state, 

Determined  not  to  be  a  low  body; 
He's  been  pull'd  up  three  times  for  short  weight, 

But  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 


There's  the  butcher  so  greasy  and  fat, 

When  out  he  does  nothing  but  boast; 
He  struts  as  he  cocks  on  his  hat, 

As  if  he  supreme  rules  the  roast. 
Talks  of  himself  and  his  riches, 

Consequence,  always  a  show  body; 
His  ugly  old  wife  wears  the  breeches, 

But  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 


There's  the  methodist  priest  of  great  fame, 

Who  I  see  very  often  go  by, 
His  bosom  is  filled  with  love's  flame, 

And  he  visits  a  girl  on  the  sly. 
All  this  now  I  daily  do  see, 

Of  course  he  is  but  a  so-so  body, 
But  as  it  is  nothing  to  me, 

Why  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 


There's  the  new  married  couple  so  happy, 
%  They  seem  quite  the  essence  of  love ; 
lie  calls  her  before  ev'ry  sappy, 

My  ducky,  my  darling,  my  dove. 
At  home  there  is  nothing  but  strife, 

Fights  and  quarrels  enough  to  o'erflow  body, 
In  fact  quite  a  cat-and-dog  life, 

But  I  never  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 


234  COMIC    SONGS 

Oh,  I  could  tell  such  a  tale  of  my  neighbors, 

All  around  me,  both  great  and  small, 
That  really  without  any  failure, 

I'd  greatly  astonish  you  all. 
But  here  my  short  ditty  ends, 

I  don't  wish  to  hurt  high  or  low  body, 
And  I  wish  to  keep  in  with  iny  friends, 

So  I  neyer  says  nothing  to  nobody. 

Tol  de  rol  dol  di  da. 

GAWKEY  SHANKS  AND  MOLLY  MUMPS, 

OR  A  GHOST  WITH  HIS  HEAD  IN  HIS  HAND. 

A  New  Comic  Apparition.      Tune — "  Giles  Scroggins." 

Poor  Gawkey  Shanks  was  born  and  bred, 

Ri  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 
He  fell  in  love  ears  over  head, 

Pa  tol. 
With  Molly  Mumps  the  sweetest  inaicf, 
And  such  coquettish  tricks  she  played, 
That  down  to  his  heel  he  went  out  of  his  head. 
Spoken. — With  a  staring,  swearing,  hair-tearing,  and  de 
spairing  sort  of  a  (Imitating  crazy)  Ri  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da 

Moll  with  another  youth  went  to  church, 

With  a  ri  tol  de  riddle. 
And  left  poor  Gawkey  in  the  lurch, 

With  a  ri  tol. 
He  for  a  soldier  straightway  went, 
On  blood  and  slaughter  fully  bent 
All  for  to  warm  "  the  winter  of  his  discontent," 
With  red  hot  shot,  bombshell  pots. 

Pi  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 

When  to  the  battle  he  did  go, 

With  right — fight — de  riddle. 
The  balls  flew  thick  and  thinn'd  ranks  so, 

Ri  tol. 
Brave  Gawkey  fought  with  might  and  main, 
But  being  slewed  he  soon  got  slain. 
Por  a  bullet  whipped  his  head  off  clean, 
With  a  whizzing  and  bizzing  sort  of 

Ri  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 


COMIC   SONGS.  235 

One  night  when  dreadful  storms  did  roar, 

With  a  ri  tol  ile  riddle  Jul  de  da. 
As  Moll  beside  her  spouse  did  snore, 

With  (imitating  snore)  a  ri  tol  dc  riddle. 
A  horse  power  groan  assailed  her  i 
When  starting  with  raised  hair  and  ears, 
A  spectre  by  her  side  appears, 
With  a  terrible  blueful  sort  of 

Ri  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 

'Twas  Gawkey  stood  beside  her  bed, 

With  ri  tol. 
And  in  his  hand  he  held  his  head, 

Ri  tol. 
Behold !  he  cried,  thou  wicked  one, 
See  what  thy par-jw-ry  has  done, 
You're  broke  my  heart,  an'  my  head's  undone, 
With  a  decapitated  and  divided  sort  of 

Hi  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 

Now  Gawkey  kotched  her  by  the  hair, 

With  a  ri  tol  de  riddle. 
She  screamed  dismay — he  grinned  despair, 

With  a  loud  fol  de  diddle  lol  de  da. 
He  was  dragging  her  off  by  the  hair, 
But  it  was  a  wig  that  she  did  wear, 
And  down  he  tumbled  stair  by  stair, 
And  broke  his  spine  by  the  great  incline, 
And  he  gave  up  the  ghost  with  an  expiring  sort  of 
Ri  tol  de  riddle  lol  de  da. 


DON'T  BE  ADDICTED  TO  DRINKING. 

As  early  one  morning  down  Main  street  I  walked, 

The  sky  being  shady  and  clouded, 
When  all  of  a  sudden  my  senses  were  shocked, 

Just  to  see  how  the  rum-shops  were  crowded. 
The  folks  ran  out  and  in,  as  if  running  a  race, 

And  they  poured  down  the  liquor  like  winking; 
A  glass  now  and  then,  is  very  well  iu  its  place, 

But  don't  be  addicted  to  drinking. 


236  COMIC   SONGS. 

Now  these  cold  frosty  mornings  when  raising  your  head, 

From  your  pillow  you'll  find  it  quite  handy, 
To  knock  off,  as  soon  as  you  turn  out  of  bed, 

A  thumping  good  bumper  of  brandy. 
A  tumbler  of  rum  in  a  basin  of  tea, 

Is  a  very  good  thing  to  my  thinking, 
Yet  a  pint  of  good  liquor  would  better  agree, 

But  don't  be  addicted  to  drinking. 

A  glass  at  eleven,  I've  heard  some  folks  say, 

Is  a  very  good  thing,  so  it  is,  miss, 
But  a  man  shouldn't  drink  every  hour  in  the  day, 

Becase  it  unfits  him  for  business. 
Then  about  one  o'clock,  when  your  dinner  you  get, 

Your  spirits  at  that  time  are  most  sinking, 
Take  two  or  three  glasses  by  way  of  a  whet, 

But  don't  be  addicted  to  drinking. 

Enjoying  a  segar  after  dinner  you  get, 

Perhaps  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter, 
Nothing  will  give  such  a  relish  to  it, 

As  a  tumbler  of  brandy  and  water; 
Then  perhaps  you'll  feel  inclined  for  a  doze, 

You  can  scarce  keep  your  eyelids  from  winking, 
Take  three  or  four  glasses  your  mind  to  compose, 

But  don't  be  addicted  to  drinking. 

To  think  about  business  as  soon  as  you  wake, 

Of  course  you  will  think  it  will  be  time, 
Then  four  or  five  glasses  more  at  least  you  must  take, 

If  you  wish  to  be  sober  by  tea-time. 
Then  spending  your  evening  at  Liberty's  Arms, 

Of  your  pretty  fair  maid  you  keep  thinking, 
While  in  hot  gin  and  water  you're  toasting  her  charms, 

Mind  you  don't  get  addicted  to  drinking. 

Now  a  bumper  at  parting  you  cannot  do  less 

It    will  just  keep  you  from  yawning, 
But  believe  me,  dear  friends,  if  you  drink  to  excess, 

You  will  have  a  devilish  headache  in  the  morning. 
Now  such,  my  dear  friends,  is  my  own  spber  plan, 

And  I  hope  you  are  my  way  of  thinking, 
For  I've  just  joined  the  temperance  society,  and  am 

By  no  means  addicted  to  drinking. 


COMIC   SONGS.  287 


THE  UNLUCKY  FELLOW. 

If  there  is  any  one  here  what's  got  a  desire 

To  wed  with  a  grumbling  wife, 
He  had  better  by  far  poke  his  head  into  the  fire 

And  at  once  put  an  end  to  his  life. 
When  I  courted  my  love,  I  thought  her  a  dove, 

But  when  married  I  wished  myself  dead, 
For,  in  less  than  a  week  she  got  tired  of  love, 

And  she  tore  all  the  hair  off  my  head. 
Oh,  crackey,  oh,  dear, 
My  heart  is  so  full  that  I'm  ready  to  cry, 
Oh,  dear  what  a  poor  unlucky  fellow  am  I. 

The  very  first  mishap  filled  my  eyes  full  of  tears, 

She  brought  me  home  children  two, 
Says  she,  you  must  father  these  two  little  dears, 

But  says  I,  I'll  be  blowed  if  I  do. 
Then  she  said  with  a  sneer,  how  dare  I  presume 

To  think  of  my  case  being  hard, 
She  knocked  me  down  three  pair  of  stairs  with  a  broom, 

Then  bolted  me  out  in  the  yard. 

Oh,  crackey,  oh,  dear, 
A  man  who's  by  sorrows  thus  trundled  about, 
Is  worse  than  a  hog  with  a  ring  in  his  snout. 

But  much  worse  than  this  was  the  rest  if  you'll  mark, 

I  thought  I  should  really  go  wild, 
I  trod  on  our  little  cat's  tail  in  the  dark, 

She  moulrowed  and  woke  the  young  child. 
Then  she  up  with  her  fist,  she  put  me  in  a  fright, 

She  swore  she  would  make  me  rue  it, 
She  made  me  go  sleep  in  the  cupboard  all  night, 

Though  I  said  I  didn't  go  for  to  do  it. 
Oh,  crackey,  oh,  dear, 
A  man  that  is  married  must  weep  and  bewail, 
Like  a  dog  with  a  tin  kettle  tied  to  his  tail. 

It  was  one  Monday  morning,  I  swear  it  is  true, 

I  met  with  a  shocking  bad  loss, 
She  told  me  to  buy  some  meat  for  a  stew, 

Says  T,  I  will,  love,  don't  be  cross. 


COMIC   SONGS. 

But  what  mishaps  in  this  world  we  oft  find! 

Before  I  could  get  it  home  to  her, 
A  large  Newfoundland  dog  came  up  smelling  behind, 

And  he  stole  all  the  meat  off  the  skewer. 
Oh,  crackey,  oh,  dear, 
A  man  that  is  married,  his  pleasures  are  small, 
Just  like  a  poor  dog  what  ain't  got  no  tail  at  all. 

THE  NICE  YOUNG  MAN. 

There  was  a  nice  young  man,  his  name  was  Brown, 

He  wore  a  short  frock  coat, 
The  hair  on  his  temples  was  plastered  down, 

And  his  collar  on  the  side  of  his  throat. 
Oh,  his  hands  they  were  white,  his  pants  they  were  tight, 

And  his  hair  was  the  color  of  tan; 
The  ladies  all  said,  whether  widow,  wife,  or  maid, 

That  he  was  such  a  Nice  Young  Man  ! 
Hi  tol,  &c. 
This  young  man  Brown  spoke  soft  and  low, 

And  was  civil  to  every  body; 
The  temperance  pledge  with  him  was  all  the  go, 

For  he  never  drank  a  glass  of  toddy. 
At  the  name  of  a  p'ay  he  would  run  right  away, 

For  the  playhouse  was  the  devil's  frying  pan ; 
He  read  nothing  but  tracts,  and  he  stuck  to  them  like  wax, 

For  he  was  such  a  Nice  Young  Man  ! 
Hi  tol,  &c. 

Three  times  on  Sunday,  and  once  on  Sunday  night, 

He  went  to  church  quite  regular; 
He  was  so  polite  that  he  didn't  fall  asleep  quite, 

But  sang  hymns  with  a  fat  dowager. 
Oh,  he  turned  up  his  eyes  like  a  duck  when  he  dies, 

Blowed  his  nose  when  the  sermon  began, 
When  the  parson  had  done,  to  shake  hands  with  him  he'd  run, 

And  the  parson  said  he  was  a  Nice  Young  Man  ! 
Fvi  tol,  &c. 
To  a  christening  party  Brown  invited  himself, 

And  offered  for  to  stand  ?od-pappy, 
There  was  none  so  frisk  as  he,  when  he  handed  round  the  tea, 

He  made  them  all  so  jovial  and  so  happy. 


COMIC    SONGS.  239 

Oh,  he  talked  to  the  pappy,  and  he  kissed  the  little  baby; 

Oh,  the  mother  admired  his  plan, 
How  beautiful  he  talks  !     But  where's  all  my  silver  forks? 

They  were  in  the  pocket  of  the  Nice  Young  Man! 
Ri  to],  &o. 
They  took  him  off  to  the  police  office, 

And  the  first  thing  his  worship  said, 
Was  M  We've  been  looking  for  you,  for  a  year  or  two, 

And  I'm  glad  you  have  been  discovered  !" 
In  spite  of  his  good  looks,  he  was  upon  their  bad  books, 

They  sent  him  off  in  the  police  black  van, 
They  didn't  stretch  his  wizen,  but  for  two  years  in  prison, 

They  locked  up  the  Nice  Young  Man  I 
Hi  tol,  kc. 

ENCORE  VERSES. 

Brown  served  out  his  time  and  came  out  prime, 

And  looked  much  nicer  than  ever; 
He  just  changed  his  name  to  play  the  same  game, 

And  alter  the  scene  of  his  endeavor. 
Oh,  he  twaddled  out  of  town  before  he  settled  down, 

And  followed  the  self-same  plan  ; 
He  looked  wise  and  demure,  as  stiff  as  any  skewer, 

And  they  all  said  he  was  a  Nice  Young  Man  I 
Ri  tol,  &c. 
He  found  a  gold  watch  in  his  landlord's  room, 

And  he  took  it  right  away; 
For  fear  some  one  to  steal  it  should  presume, 

The  landlord  would  be  in  a  bad  way. 
The  landlord  discharged  his  maid  and  his  clerk, 

Thinking  them  in  the  stealing  plan  ; 
If  you'd  suspected  Brown,  he  would  have  knocked  you  down, 

For  suspecting  such  a  Nice   Young  Man  ! 
Hi  tol,  &c. 
In  the  course  of  his  sinning,  he  grew  very  short  of  linen, 

He  man  Irop  into  a  dry  good  dealer's  skirts, 

In  preaching  of  Parson  Sacks  over  a  bundle  of  tracts; 

He  made  shift  to  steal  a  dozen  pf  shirts! 
In  spite  of  his  looks,  the  shopman  noticed  his  Jloo7cs, 

And  straight  for  the  police  officer  ran, 
First  of  all  they  knocked  down,  then  they  took  up  Mr.  Brown, 

Aud  transported  this  Nice  Young  Man  ! 


240  COMIC   SONGS. 

MORAL. 

Now  ladies  all,  both  little  and  tall, 

Pray  listen  to  what  I  have  been  describing; 
This  history  so  true  that  I  dedicates  to  you, 

And  a  warning  I  hope  you'll  imbibe  in; 
"When  a  husband  you  select,  of  course  we  expect, 

That  you'll  pick  out  the  best  you  can, 
But  nothing  can  be  worse,  than  that  hollow-hearted  curse 

A  smooth-faced,  sneaking  Nice  Young  Man  ! 

MY  GRANDFATHER  WAS  A  WONDERFUL  MAN. 

My  grandfather  was  a  most  wonderful  man, 

He  could  do  and  invent,  could  propose  and  could  plan. 

When  he  was  at  school,  a  boy  very  small, 

At  reading  and  writing,  why  he  beat  them  all ; 

He  could  dance,  he  could  sing,  he  could  poetry  write, 

He  could  wrestle  and  box,  he  could  run,  he  could  fight. — 

{Spoken — Well  he  could  fight !  he  once  knocked  a  man  so 
deep  into  a  snow  bank,  that  when  his  friends  dug  him  out,  he 
was  bankrupt.  Oh  !  he  was  a  wonderful  man,  he  knew  every- 
thing— he  knew  Jawology,  Tautology,  Conchology,  Etymology, 
Physiology,  Noseology,  Mineralogy,  Phrenology,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  ologys.  He  was  the  boy  for  a  song  too  :  he  once 
wrote  a  song  of  a  hundred  and  ninety-nine  verses  and  sung  it 
himself;  he  did  !  it  took  him  three  hours  and  three  quarters 
to  sing  it,  because  the  first  verse  was  always  repeated.  He 
was  a  wonderful  smart  man — but  notwithstanding  all  that,  he 
couldn't  fool  old  Death :  Oh,  no,  old  bones  and  scythe  come 
along  one  day,  and  cut  the  old  man  down  very  suddenly. 

What  a  pity ) 

What  a  pity  it  is  this  life's  but  a  span, 

For  my  grandfather  was  a  most  wonderful  man. 

He  sailed  'round  the  world  without  going  wrong, 

He  killed  a  large  crocodile  twenty  feet  long, 

He  caught  a  large  whale  and  brought  him  ashore, 

He  tamed  fifteen  lions  and  killed  a  wild  boar, 

He  could  change  brass  to  copper,  get  diamonds  from  coal, 

He  fried  at  the  Indies,  and  froze  at  the  pole. 

{Spoken — Well  he  did  !  He  once  sailed  'round  the  north 
pole,  saw  the  pole,  went  up  to  the  pole,  climb'd  up  the  pole, 


COMIO   SONGS.  241 

look'd  into  the  pole,  cut  the  pole  off,  and  brought  it  home 
with  him ;  used  it  for  a  fish  pole  for  many  years — finally  stuck 
it  up  for  a  Liberty  pole ;  and  I  dare  say  it  stands  to  this  very 
day.  Oh  !  he  was  a  wonderful  man.  Why,  he  once  upon 
one  of  his  voyages,  sailed  right  against  the  Equinoctial  line, 
broke  it  in  two,  caught  both  ends,  brought  them  home,  used 
it  for  a  fish  line  for  a  great  while.  My  grandmother  was  a 
wonderful  icoman,  too,  she  was  a  washerwoman — she  had  no 
place  to  dry  her  clothes,  so  my  grandfather  stretched  the 
other  half  of  the  Equinoctial  line  'round  the  garden  fence, 
and  she  used  to  dry  her  clothes  on  the  Equator.     0  !  he  was 

a  wonderful  man  for  inventions,  what  a  pity  he  died ) 

What  a  pity  it  is  this  life's,  &c. 

He  sailed  to  each  part  of  Japan  and  Peru, 
Could  tell  if  a  wife  to  her  husband  was  true, 
He  swam  the  Nile  over  without  any  clothes, 
Watch  papers  and  miniatures  cut  with  his  toes, 
He  could  make  anything  that  once  he  had  seen, 
From  a  microscope  up  to  a  sausage  machine. 

{Spoken — Well  he  could !  And  he  could  make  sausages 
too;  he  once  speculated  in  sausages  ;  but  he  lost  in  one  grand 
speculation  ;  he  got  to  making  them  of  bull  terriers,  and  grey- 
hounds, they  got  fighting,  and  tore  the  sausages  all  to  pieces ; 
but  then  he  tried  another  experiment — he  made  some  of  grey- 
hound alone,  but  there  came  along  a  little  boy  one  day,  whist- 
ling Yankee  Doodle,  and  whistled  the  meat  all  out  and  left 
nothing  but  the  skins  lying  on  the  stall;  however,  he  lost  no- 
thing by  the  operation,  for  he  blew  up  the  skins  and  made 
life  preservers  and  bustles  of  them.  Oh  !  he  was  a  wonder- 
ful man,  and  had  he  not  died,  he  would  have  lived  a  great 
while ) 

What  a  pity  it  is  this  life's  but  a  span, 
For  my  grandfather  was  a  most  wonderful  man. 
My  grandfather  was  a  most  wonderful  man. 
16 


COMIC   SONGS. 

THE  QUILTING. 

'TWAS  down  at  Major  Parsons'  house, 

The  gals  they  had  a  quiitm' 
Just  for  tu  show  their  handsome  looi3 

And  have  a  little  jiltiu'  ! 
Clwrus — Yankee  lasses  are  the  U- 

'niversal  airth  bewitchin', 
They're  good  and  true,  and  handsome  tu 

In  parlor  and  in  kitchen. 

There  was  Deacon  Jones's  darter  Sal, 
Squire  Wheeler's  darter  Mary, 

And  General  Carter's  youngest  gal, 
That  looks  just  like  a  fairy  ! 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

There  was  Lucy  White  and  Martha  Brown 

And  Parsons'  darter  Betty, 
Jemima  Pinkhorn,  Prudence  Short, 

And  Major  Downing's  Hetty. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

But  if  there  was  a  handsome  gal, 
To  make  a  fellow's  heart  right, 

I  guess  it  was  by  all  accounts, 
Miss  Carolina  Cartwright. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

Wal,  while  we  were  a  whirlin'  plate, 
And  playin'  hunt  the  slipper, 

Jerusha  Parsons  went  to  git 
Some  cider  in  a  dipper. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

But  just  as  she  had  left  the  room, 

And  got  iflte>  the  entry, 
She  gave  a  scream,  and  stood  stock  still 

Just  like  a  frozen  sentry. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

We  all  ran  out,  and  there.  I  swow, 

Both  hugein'  like  creation, 
Miss  Cartwright  and  Satn  Jones  we  saw 

A  kissin'  like  tarnation. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c 


COMIC   SONGS.  243 

Oh,  such  a  laugh  as  we  sot  up, 

You  never  heerd  a  finer, 
Savs  T,  l- 1  reokin  kissin's  cheap, 

Don't  yon  Miss  Carolina ?" 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

I  wish  you'd  saw  Miss  Cartwright  blush, 

Just  like  as  if  she'd  painted, 
She  said — she  had  the  cholic — and — 

And  in  Samuel's  arms  had  fainted. 
Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 

And  now,  young  gals,  I'd  say  tu  you, 

When  you  go  to  a  frolic, 
Don't  let  your  fellers  kiss  and  hug, 

Unless — you  have  the  headache. 

Yankee  lasses  are  the  U,  &c. 


MY  GRANDMOTHER  WAS  A  MOST  WONDERFUL 
DAME. 

You've  heard  of  my  grandfather's  wonderful  skill, 
Who  such  marvelous  deeds  could  perform  at  his  will, 
But  Lord  bless  your  soul !  they're  not  worthy  to  name, 
Compared  with  the  feats  of  my  worthy  granddame ; 
Oh,  sure  such  a  woman  can  no  where  be  found, 
If  you  travel  a  century,  and  search  the  world  round. 
No  wonder  she  gained  such  a  glorious  name, 
For  my  grandmother  was  a  most  wonderful  dame. 

(Spoken — There  was  a  woman  for  you. — Talk  about  my 
grandfather)  why  he  was  only  a  patch  of  court  plaster  com- 
pared with  my  grandmother.  Do  you  know  that  my  grand- 
mother invented  the  patent  Elixir  of  Life,  and  lived  to  the 
i'  two  hundred  and  seventy  ?  She  used  to  take 
i'  the  Elixir  in  fifteen  gallons  of  brandy  every 
morning  before  breakfast — and  in  less  than  three  months,  she 
had  a  new  pair  of  eyes,  a  new  head  of  hair,  and  a  new  sett  of 
teeth.     She  had !) 

No  wonder,  &c. 


244  COMIC   SONGS. 

She  could  dance,  she  could  sing,  she  could  fence,  she  could  spar, 
But  oh,  at  invention,  she  beat  others  by  far, 
She  invented — indeed  of  her  skill  I  don't  dream, 
A  patent  machine  to  make  children  hi/  steam  ; 
She'd  take  cart  loads  of  snuff,  and  still  crave  for  more, 
And  drank  enough  tea  to  float  a  seventy-four. 
No  wonder  she  gained  such  a  glorious  name, 
For  my  grandmother  was  a  most  marvelous  dame. 
(Spoken — There  was  a  woman  for  you. — Do  you  know  that 
my  grandmother  invented  a  steamboat  to  sail  down  the  Mis- 
sissippi river?      Well,  she  started  off  one  afternoon,  about 
six  o'clock  in  the  nforning,  just  before  breakfast,  with  a  whole 
cart  load  of  passengers ;  she  got  as  far  as  New  Orleans,  when 
the  whirlpool  took  it — went  round  and  round  to  the  bottom 
— but  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  the  steamboat,  it  kept 
going  on,  going  on ;  and  my  grandmother  believes  that  if  it 
had  not  been  for  a  large  oyster,  or  the  great  American  sea 
serpent,  which  must  have  swallowed  it,  the  steamboat  would 
have  been  going  on  to  this  very  day — Well  it  would !) 

No  wonder,  &c. 
She  could  cure  like  winkin,  diasters  and  ills, 
She  beat  all  to  nothing  famed  Brandreth's  pills, 
She  knew  every  manual  labor  and  art, 
And  she  could  make,  from  a  wheelbarrow  up  to  a  cart, 
She  could  give  to  old  age  a  patent  new  face, 
And  beat  every  body  in  running  a  race. 
No  wonder,  &c. 

(Spoken — There  was  a  woman  for  you. — She  invented  some 
patent  yeast,  to  make  cakes  rise — all  you  had  to  do  was  to 
take  a  little  before  going  to  bed,  it  would  make  you  rise  at 
any  moment  you  wished.  Grandmother  put  a  little  in  the 
yard  one  night  for  an  experiment,  first  thing  she  knew,  the 
sun  began  to  rise  about  two  o'clock,  it  did  !  Do  you  know 
that  my  grandmother  invented  a  steam  balloon? — Well,  she 
did  —  she  started  off  one  fine  evening,  with  a  new  married 
couple,  and  got  up  so  high  that  she  couldn't  get  down  again ; 
balloon  kept  going  on — grandmother  lit  her  pipe  in  the  moon, 
and  snuffed  out  the  sun — and  when  they  did  get  down  again  (it's 
a  fact,  or  grandmother  wouldn't  have  said  so),  the  new  mar- 
ried couple  had  turned  completely  gray,  and  had  a  whole 
flock  of  little  ones.  Well  they  had  !) 
No  wonder,  &c. 


COMIC    SONGS.  245 

THE  NERVOUS  FAMILY. 

Air.— #  We're  all  Xoddin'." 

"We're  all  nervous,  shake,  shake,  trembling, 
"We're  all  nervous,  at  our  house,  at  home; 
There's  myself  and  my  mother,  my  sister  and  brother, 
If  left  all  alone,  are  all  frighten'd  at  each  other. 
Our  dog  runs  away  if  a  stranger's  in  the  house, 
And  our  tabby  cat,  too,  is  frightened  at  a  mouse; 
And  we're  all  nervous,  shake,  shake,  trembling, 
We're  all  nervous,  at  our  house,  at  home. 

"We  all  at  dinner,  shake,  shake,  at  carving; 
And  as  for  snuffing,  we  oft  snuff  out  the  light; 
Last  night  every  one  did  to  snuff  the  candle  try, 
But  my  wife  couldn't  do  it,  nor  my  sister,  nor  could  I. 
Come  give  me  the  snuffers,  said  mother,  with  a  flout, 
I'll  show  you  how  to  do  it,  and  she  snufFd  the  candle  out. 
For  she's  so  nervous,  shake,  shake,  &c. 

My  nervous  wife  can't  work  at  her  needle, 
And  my  shaking  hand  spills  half  my  cup  of  tea; 
"When  wine  at  dinner  my  timid  sister's  taking, 
It's  spilt  on  the  table  for  so  her  hand  is  shaking, 
My  mother  taking  snuff,  very  carefully  doth  try, 
To  pop  it  up  her  nose,  when  she  pops  it  in  her  eye. 
For  she's  so  nervous,  shake,  shake,  &c. 

Our  nerves  foretell  all  the  changes  of  the  weather; 

"We  are  so  nervous  we're  frightened  at  each  noise; 

"We  have  got  a  private  watchman  to  guard  the  private  door, 

But  since  we   have  had   him,  we   are  frightened  more  and 

more. 
For  he  falls  asleep,  and  we've  found  out  too,  that  he, 
In  respect  to  his  nerves,  oh,  he's  quite  as  bad  as  we. 
So  we're  all  nervous,  shake,  shake,  &c. 


246  COMIC   SONGS. 


NOWADAYS. 


Music  published  by  Firtb,  Pond,  &  Co.,  N.  Y. 

Alas  !  how  every  thing  is  changed, 

Since  I  was  sweet  sixteen, 
When  all  the  girls  wore  home-spun  frocks, 

And  aprons  nice  and  clean. 
With  bonnets  made  of  braided  straw, 

That  tied  beneath  the  chin, 
The  shawl  laid  neatly  on  the  neck, 

And  fasten'd  with  a  pin. 

I  recollect  the  time,  when  I 

Rode  father's  horse  to  mill, 
Across  the  meadow,  rock,  and  field, 

And  up  and  down  the  hill. 
And  when  "  our  folks"  were  out  at  work, 

It  never  made  me  thinner, 
I  jumped  upon  a  horse  bare-back, 

And  carried  them  their  dinner. 

Dear  me  !  young  ladies  nowadays, 

Yfould  almost  faint  away, 
To  think  of  riding  all  alone, 

In  wagon,  chaise,  or  sleigh. 
And  as  for  giving  "  pa"  his  meals, 

Or  helpiug  "  ma"  to  bake, 
Oh  dear  !  'would  spoil  their  lily  hands, 

Though  sometimes  they  make  cake. 

When  winter  came,  the  maiden's  heart 

Began  to  beat  and  flutter  j 
Each  beau  would  take  his  sweetheart  out, 

Sleigh-riding  in  a  cutter. 
Or  if  the  storm  was  bleak  and  cold, 

The  girls  and  beaux  together, 
Would  meet  and  have  the  best  of  fun, 

And  never  mind  the  weather  ! 


COMIC   SONGS.  247 

But  nowadays,  it  grieves  me  much 

The  circumstance  to  mem: 
However  kind  the  young  man's  heart, 

And  honest  his  intention, 
He  asks  no  girls  to  take  a  drive, 

'Case  he's  too  much  engaged. 
In  shanghai  clothes,  races  and  yacht  clubs, 

His  time  and  tin  are  caged. 


THINGS  I  DON'T  LIKE  TO  SEE. 

A   VERY  POPULAR   COMIC   SONG. 
Tune. — "  Irish  Washerwoman. " 

A  SONG  I'll  sing  now  in  jingling  rhymes, 

About  matters  and  things  in  these  curious  times, 

A  lesson  to  all  I  hope  it  will  be, 

"When  I  sing  to  you  about  things  I  don't  like  to  see. 

Chorus. — You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  you  may  call  me  a  pry, 

But  I  doesn't  like  things  that  look  queer  to  the  eye, 

And  if  you  like  them,  that's  nothing  to  me, 

So  these  are  some  things  that  I  dou't  like  to  see  : 

I  don't  like  to  see  little  boys  just  from  their  mammas, 
"Who  think  they  are  men  and  smoke  their  segars, 
They  had  better  be  at  home  a-playing  with  toys, 
Than  running  the  streets  and  exclaiming,  "I'm  one  of  the 
Bo'hoys." 

You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  &c. 

I  don't  like  to  see  dandies  without  any  cash, 
Promenade  the  Main  street,  and  cut  quite  a  dash, 
Who  stare  at  the  ladies — look  pretty  and  sweet, 
Without  a  cent  in  their  pocket  and  nothing  to  eat. 
Y/ou  may  call  me  a  qui::. 

I  don't  like  to  see  gals  all  the  time  reading  sonnets, 
llomances  and  novels,  wear  queer  little  bonnets, 
Who  screw  up  their  waists  and  wear  a  tight  sleeve, 
And  dare  not,  poor  creatures,  enjoy  a  good  sneeze. 
You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  &c. 


248  COMIC   SONGS. 

I  don't  like  to  see  politicians,  who  take  great  pains, 
To  show  their  constituents  they  are  possessed  of  large  brains, 
Who  talk  about  this  thing — and  blow  about  that, 
And  all  that  they're  after  is  government — pap. 
You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  &c. 

I  don't  like  to  see  ladies  want  satins  for  dress, 
Y/hen  their  husbands  are  bankrupt  and  in  great  distress; 
They  had  better  be  at  home,  washing  up  dishes, 
Mending  holes  in  their  stockings,  and  their   husbands'  old 
pantaloons. 

You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  &c. 

I  don't  like  to  see  John  Bull,  "  putting  on  airs," 
Sending  troops  to  the  Canadas,  the  Yankees  to  scare; 
He'd  better  "  dry  up,"  or  he'll  git  in  a  fix, 
That  will  give  him  a  specimen  of  "  old  seventy-six." 
You  may  call  me  a  quiz,  &c. 

P.  Morris. 


BILLY  BARLOW. 

Oh  ladies  and  gentlemen,  how  do  you  do  ? 
I've  come  out  before  you  with  one  boot  and  shoe, 
I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  somehow  'tis  so, 
Oh  !  isn't  it  hard  upon  Billy  Barlow  ? 

Oh!  oh!  raggedy  oh !  now  isn't  it  hard  upon  Billy  Barlow? 

As  I  was  walking  down  street  jist  t'other  day, 
The  people  all  gazed  and  some  of  'em  did  say, 
Why,  that  fellow  there,  why  he  aint  so  slow, 
Humph !  I  guess  not,  says  a  lady,  that's  Mr.  Barlow. 

I  went  to  the  races  jist  the  other  day, 

The  man  that  keeps  the  gate  he  asked  me  to  pay, 

Pay — says  I,  and  looked  at  him  so, 

O  you  can  pass  on,  I  know  you,  you  are  Billy  Barlow. 

They  say  there's  a  wild  beast  show  come  to  town, 
Of  lions,  and  monkeys,  and  porcupines  too, 
But  if  they  start  to  show,  I'll  beat  them,  I  know, 
For  they  aint  got  a  varmint  like  Billy  Barlow. 


COMIC   SONGS.  249 

They  tried  to  buy  me  to  go  with  that  show, 

But  the  monkeys  got  jealous,  and  the  lion  snapped  at  me  too, 

The  Hyena  growled,  and  looked  at  me  so ; 

Thinks  I,  'twill  never  do  for  you,  Mr.  Billy  Barlow. 

The  tailors  in  town  are  all  running  after  me, 
To  get  the  cut  of  my  clothes,  that's  plain  to  see, 
But  before  they  can  get  them  I'll  just  let  you  know, 
They  must  spill  out  the  rhino  to  Mr.  Barlow. 

Oh  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  bid  you  good  bye, 
I'll  get  a  new  suit  when  clothes  aint  so  high, 
My  hat's  shocking  bad,  that  all  of  you  know, 
Yet  it  looks  well  on  the  head  of  this  Billy  Barlow. 

T'other  day  at  a  free  blow  of  liquor  and  lunch, 
I  thought  touring  in  for  a  good  swig  of  punch, 
But  they  elbowed  me  out  with  a  fisty  free  blow, 
And  that's  all  the  punch  they  give  Billy  Barlow. 

Now  ladies,  long  life  to  each  sweet  smiling  soul, 
Though  my  coat  it  is  ragged,  my  heart  it  is  whole, 
If  there  is  any  in  want  of  a  genteel  young  beau, 
Let  them  come  to  the  arms  of  young  Billy  Barlow. 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE  COBBLER, 

OR  LITERATURE  AND  COMMON  SENSE. 

William  and  Jonathan  came  to  town  together, 
William  brought  learning,  and  Jonathan  some  leather; 
Said  William  to  Jonathan,  What  d'ye  mean  to  do  ? 
Said  Jonathan  to  William,  I  can  sole  a  shoe, 

With  my  leather,  lap-stone,  hammer,  nippers,  pegging-awl, 
and  bristles. 

Said  Jonathan  to  William,  Pray,  what  is  your  intention? 
William  talk'd  of  things  far  above  his  comprehension, 
He  meant  to  write  poetry,  pamphlets,  songs,  and  plays, 
Epitaphs,  epigrams,  and  puffs,  the  wind  to  raise, 

With    his    Latin,   Greek,  grammar,  syntax,  prosody,  and 
logic. 


250  COMIO   SONGS. 

It  chanced  that  they  lodged  in  the  same  house  together, 
Will  stuck  close  to  books,  and  Jonathan  to  leather; 
While  Johnny  in  the  cellar  as  any  hog  grew  fat, 
Poor  Will  in  the  garret  was  as  thin  as  a  starved  cat, 

With  their  leather,  Latin,  hammer,  grammar,  pegging-awl, 
and  logic. 

When  they  had  lived  in  town  for  years  nearly  twenty; 
Will  was  very  poor,  but  Jonathan  had  plenty ; 
When  meeting  one  day,  they  compar'd  notes  together, 
And    clearly   proved   that  learning  wasn't  half  so  good   as 

leather, 
Sing,  leather,  lap-stone,  hammer,  nippers,  pegging-awl,  and 

bristles. 


"JUST  SO." 

Tune. — "  Garryoiccn"  or  "  The  Campbells." 

Mr.  Dip — a  hig  dealer  in  tallow  and  fat, 

By  love  was  reduced  like  a  skeleton  cat; 

And  the  maiden  he  loved  was  as  pure  as  the  snow, 

And  many  a  sigh  did  he  give  her — just  so. 

(Imitating  a  long  sigh.') 

One  night  when  his  unlucky  stars  did  prevail, 
He  drank  with  a  friend  about  nine  pints  of  ale; 
It  got  in  his  head — put  him  quite  in  a  glow, 
And  made  his  eyes  roll  about  him — just  so. 

(Imitating.') 

He  then  went  a  courting,  though  not  very  fit, 
And  not  able  to  stand,  why  he  was  forced  to  sit; 
Says  he,  "  Oh,  my  love,  you'll  excuse  me,  I  know," 
Says  she,  "  Mr.  Dip,  you've  been  drinking," — just  so. 

(Imitating.) 

Says  he,  "  Oh  !  my  angel,  pray  doubt  not  my  love, 
For  you  know  I'm  as  faithful  and  true  as  a  dove; 
feel  how  my  heart  pit-a-pats  to  and  fro," 
she,  "  Mr.  Dip,  you're  a  brute  beast," — just  so. 

(Imitating.) 


COMIC   SONGS.  251 

"My  darling,"  says  he,  "only  let  me  explain, 
And  I  promise  I  never  will  do  it  again  ; 
Come,  let  us  be  friends,  kiss  before  I  do  go," 
Says  she,  then,  to  him,  "  Kiss  the  torn  cat," — just  so. 

(Imitating.') 

u  Oh  !  oh  !  then,"  says  he,  "  if  you're  positive  still, 
And  determined  to  show  me  you'll  have  your  own  will, 
Dang  me  if  I  care  for  it ! — I'll  let  you  know, 
I  don't  care  a  fig  for  your  passions," — just  so. 

(Imitating.) 

He  put  on  his  hat,  and  he  reeled  to  the  door, 
While  the  poor  maiden's  heart  was  getting  quite  sore; 
Says  he,  u  By  your  cruelty  here  I  do  go ;" 
Says  she,  u  Mr.  Dip,  can  you  leave  me  ?" — just  so. 

(Imitating.) 

At  hearing  these  words,  Mr.  Dip  then  turned  back, 
And  gave  her  sweet  lips  such  a  good  hearty  smack  ; 
Says  he,  "  Then  next  Sunday  to  church  let  us  go," 
Says  she,  "  Oh,  I  have  no  objection," — just  so. 

(Imitating.*) 


THE  LAZY  CLUB. 

Tune. — "Green  grow  the  rnsTtps,  oh  !" 

My  wife  is  such  a  lazy  Turk, 
She  will  not  do  a  bit  of  work, 
She  says  she  isn't  such  a  flat, 
Hard  work  will  never  make  her  fat. 
But  in  the  morning  when  she  wakes, 
Her  breakfast  up  stairs  then  she  takes, 
She  treats  herself  to  toast  and  shrub, 
And  says  she's  joined  a  Lazy  Club. 
Chorus. — Skiddy  mi  dig,  ri  to  ra  lo. 

Skiddy  mi  dig,  ri  to  ra  lo. 

Skiddy  mi  3ig,  ri  to  ra  lo. 

Skiddy  mi  dig,  ri  to  ra  lo. 


252  COMIC   SONGS. 

When  she  takes  it  in  her  head, 
She  makes  me  lift  her  out  of  bed, 
To  say  a  word,  I  do  not  dare, 
But  place  her  in  an  easy  chair. 
To  stir  a  peg  it  seems  a  crime, 
Why  there  she  sits  till  supper  time, 
While  I'm  obliged  to  cook  the  grub, 
Because  she's  joined  the  Lazy  Club. 
Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 


My  eldest  daughter's  just  as  bad, 
I  really  think  she's  lazy  mad, 
She  seems  too  lazy  now  to  talk, 
And  scarce  seems  half  inclined  to  walk. 
Her  tongue  is  never  free  from  scolds, 
Her  shoes  are  always  full  of  holes, 
Her  dress  is  never  free  from  mud, 
In  honor  of  the  Lazy  Club. 
Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 


My  doteful  son  shows  off  his  airs, 
He  cannot  sit  without  three  chairs, 
And  he  pretends  he's  got  the  gout, 
And  wants  me  then  to  carry  him  about. 
He  is  too  lazy  to  go  to  bed, 
So  snores  upon  the  chairs  instead, 
Wanted  me  to  give  his  boots  a  rub, 
In  honor  of  the  Lazy  Club. 
Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 


We  keep  a  girl  about  sixteen, 
To  mind  the  house  and  keep  it  clean, 
But  lawks!   she's  such  a  lazy  elf, 
I'm  obliged  to  do  it  all  myself. 
And  if  I  ask  her  then  to  stir, 
She  says  I  ought  to  wait  on  her, 
And  give  the  yard  and  the  kitchen  a  scrub, 
In  honor  of  the  Lazy  Club. 
Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 


COMIC   SONGS.  258 

Wc  keep  a  very  lazy  dog, 
Who  lays  about  just  like  a  log, 
He  seems  too  lazy  to  wag  his  tail, 
And  tries  to  imitate  the  snail. 
Before  the  fire  all  in  a  heap, 
Why  there  he  lies,  goes  fast  asleep, 
And  lawks  !   he  is  such  a  lazy  chub, 
I  think  he's  joined  the  Lazy  Club. 

Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 
And  now  I'm  in  a  pretty  mess 
Through  their  cursed  laziness  ; 
And  now  my  debts  I  cannot  pay, 
In  prison  shall  be  obliged  to  lay. 
When  I  am  there,  the  lazy  elves, 
They'll  be  obliged  to  help  themselves, 
And  no  doubt  when  they're  in  want  of  grub, 
They  must  get  it  from  the  Lazy  Club. 

Skiddy  mi  dig,  &c. 

A  BAG  OF  NAILS. 

My  merry  gentle  people,  pray 

Will  you  list  a  minute  ? 
For,  though  my  song  it  is  not  long, 

There's  something  comic  in  it. 
To  sing  of  nails,  if  you'll  permit, 

My  sportive  muse  intends,  sirs, 
A  subject  which  I  now  have  pat 

Just  at  my  fingers'  ends,  sirs. 
The  world  it  is  a  bag  of  nails, 

And  some  are  very  queer  ones, 
And  some  are  flats,  and  some  are  sharps, 

And  some  are  very  dear  ones. 
We've  sprigs,  and  spikes,  and  sparables, 

Some  little,  great,  and  small,  sirs, 
Some  folks  have  nails  with  monstrous  heads, 

And  some  have  none  at  all,  sirs. 
The  bachelor's  a  hob-nail, 

He  rusts  for  want  of  use,  sirs. 
The  misers,  they're  no  nails  at  all, 

They're  all  a  pack  of  screws,  sirs. 


254  OOMIC   SONGS. 

An  enemy  will  get  some  clouts 

If  here  they  chance  to  roam,  sirs, 
For  Yankee  boys,  like  hammers,  will, 

Be  sure  to  drive  them  home,  sirs. 
The  doctor  nails  you  with  his  bill, 

Which  often  proves  a  sore  Bail, 
The  undertaker  wishes  you 

As  dead  as  any  door-nail. 
You'll  often  find  each  agent 

To  be  nailing  his  employer; 
The  lawyer  nails  his  client, 

And  the  devil  nails  the  lawyer. 
Dame  Fortune  is  a  brad-awl, 

And  often  does  contrive  it 
To  make  each  nail  go  easily 

Where'er  she  please  to  drive  it. 
Then,  if  I  gain  your  kind  applause 

For  what  I've  sung  or  said,  sirs, 
Then  you'll  admit  that  I  have  hit 

The  right  nail  on  the  head,  sirs. 

MY  MARY  HAS  THE  LONGEST  NOSE. 

Tune — My  Helen  is  the  Fairest  Flower. 

My  Mary  has  the  longest  nose, 

In  which  she  greatly  takes  a  pride, 
So  large  the  shoes  her  feet  inclose, 

That  insects  strive  in  vain  to  hide. 
Her  hair  is  of  the  brightest  red, 

Which  lights  her  footsteps  in  the  dark; 
Her  mouth  is  large  for  hiding  bread, 

Her  voice  is  sweeter  than  the  lark-. 
Yes,  Mary  has,  &c. 
In  Mary  there  is'  nothing  green, 

She'll  let  you  kiss  her  if  you  can, 
Her  mother  says  she's  not  sixteen, 

Though  twice  as  strong  as  any  man. 
But  far  ahead  of  these,  of  all, 

The  charms  my  Mary  can  combine, 
She's  six  foot  six,  and  I  can  call 

This  charming  little  creature  mine. 
Yes,  Mary  has,  &c. 


COMIC    SO.NG3.  255 

THE  LOVE  STRUCK  QUAKER. 

Tunc—/  terBiith? 

I'm  a  luokl  il,  teri-ly, 

!   ! 
All  day  long   I  pine  and 

Ump  u:u  !  In  . 
Once  I  plump  and  fat  was  mown, 
Now  I'm  nought  but  skin  and  Lone — 
Love  cuts  me  up  and  cuts  me  down — ■ 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 

My  inward  man  is  sore  decay 'J — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
The  spirit's  by  the  flesh  betray'd — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
I  conceive — ah,  veril-y, 
That  I'm  assailed  most  grievous-ly; 
And  us'd  by  Ruth  most  ruthless-ly — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 

My  heart  by  Cupid's  fiercely  smote — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
And  rent  in  twain  like  Joseph's  coat — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
Love  has  caught  me  in  a  snare, 
Wicked  Ruth  scorns  my  despair  j 
Though  fair  herself,  don't  use  me  fair— 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho ! 

As  young  lambkins  frisk  and  play — 

Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
Ruth  and  I  have  toy'd  all  day — 
um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 
She  now  disdains  to  cast  one  look 
On  me — al 
My  ]  ■  ace  should  be  3  broke — 

Ump  um  !  1  heigho  ! 

To  j"'  Ti  I'll  bid  adieu — 

um  !  heigho  !  hei. 
Leave  Rath  to  find  a  swain  more  true; 
Ump  um  !  heigho  !  heigho  ! 


256  COMIC    SONGS. 

I'll  seek  some  shady  grove  straightway, 
There  'neath  some  pine  I'll  pine  away, 
And  in  the  ground  bury  my  clay. 
Ump  !  ump  !  ump  !  heigh o  ! 

YANKEE  MANUFACTURE. 

Originally  written  and  sung  by  Pete  Morris. 
Tune — Betsy  Baker. 

I  wish  I  was  in  Yankee  land, 

And  was  a  boy  again,  sir, 
I'd  suck  sweet  cider  through  a  straw, 

And  fish  in  every  rain,  sir. 
I'd  never  wander  from  my  home 

To  visit  other  lands,  sure, 
But  stay  at  home,  eat  pumpkin  pies 

Of  Yankee  manufacture. 
The  people  there  all  go-a-head, 

They  never  turn  about,  sir, 
And  when  the  bo'hoys  go  on  a  spree, 

"  Their  mothers  know  they're  out,  sir  f 
The  girls  can  read,  and  write,  and  spin, 

Are  modest,  chaste,  and  fair,  sure, 
No  other  land  has  got  such  gals 

As  of  Yankee  manufacture. 
There  is  a  spot  near  Boston  town, 

They  call  it  Bunker  Hill,  sir, 
Where  Johnny  Bull  with  Yankee  lead 

Did  get  his  stomach  filled,  sir ; 
'Twas  there  brave  General  Warren  fell, 

In  freedom's  glorious  cause,  sure, 
But  we  had  left  great  Washington, 

Of  Yankee  manufacture. 
I  love  the  Yankees  for  their  skill, 

Their  perseverance  too,  sir, 
Their  telegraphs  and  railroads, 

And  wooden  nutmegs  too,  sir : 
For  onions  and  for  enterprise 

Give  me  the  Yankee  lads,  sir ; 
For  cider,  soberness,  and  sense, 

There  is  none  can  beat  their  dads,  sir ! 


MIC    SONGS.  25? 

Why  the  Sundays  there  begin  to  dawn 

On  Saturday,  at  eve,  sir, 
And  then  all  hands,  in-doors  and  out, 

Their  weekly  labors  leave,  sir; 
It's  wicked  then  for  hens  to  lay ; 

And  they  are  held  as  sinners, 
Who  work  at  all,  except  to  bake 

Beans  for  Sunday  dinners. 

THE  RAGING  KANAWL. 

Tune — Enniskillen  Dragoon. 

Come  listen  to  my  story,  ye  landsmen,  one  and  all, 
And  I'll  sing  to  you  the  dangers  of  the  raging  Canal : 
For  I  am  one  of  many  who  expects  a  watery  grave, 
For  I've  been  at  the  mercies  of  the  winds  and  the  waves. 

We  left  Albany  harbour  about  the  break  of  day ; 
If  rightly  I  remember  'twas  the  second  day  of  May; 
We  trusted  to  our  driver,  altho'  he  was  but  small, 
Yet  he  knew  all  the  windings  of  that  raging  Canal. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  Devil  had  work  in  hand  that  night, 
For  our  oil  it  was  all  gone,  and  our  lamps  they  gave  no  light, 
The  clouds  began  to  gather,  and  the  rain  began  to  fall, 
And  I  wished  myself  far  away  from  that  raging  Canal. 

The  Captain  told  the  driver  to  hurry  with  all  speed — 
And  his  orders  were  obeyed,  for  he  soon  cracked  up  his  lean; 
With  the  fastest  kind  of  towing  we  allowed  by  twelve  o'clock, 
We  should  be  in  old  Schnectady  right  bang  against  the  dock. 

But  sad  was  the  fate  of  our  poor  devoted  barque, 

For  the  rain  kept  pouring  faster,  and  the  night  it  grew  more 

dark ; 
The  horses  gave  a  stumble,  and  the  driver  gave  a  squall, 
And  they  tumbled  head  and  heels  into  that  raging  Canal. 

The  Captain  came  on  deck,  with  a  voice  so  clear  and  sound, 
Crying,  Cut  the  horses  loose,  my  boys,  or  I  swear  we'll  all  be 

drowned  ; 
The  driver  paddled  to  the  shore,  altho'  he  was  but  small, 
While  the  horses  sank  to  rise  no  more  in  that  raging  Canal. 
17 


258  COMIC   SONGS. 

The  Cook  she  rung  her  hands,  and  she  came  upon  the  deck, 
Saying,  Alas  !  what  will  become  of  us,  our  boat  it  is  a  wreck  ! 
The  steersman  laid  her  over,  for  he  was  a  man  of  sense, 
When  the  bowsman  jumped  ashore,  he  lashed  her  to  the  fence. 

We  had  a  load  of  Dutch,  and  we  stowed  them  in  the  Hole; 
They  were  not  the  least  concerned  about  the  welfare  of  their 

Soul; 
The  Captain  went  below,  and  implored  them  for  to  pray, 
But  the  only  answer  he  could  get  was,  Nix  horn  Raus,  nixfis 

staa  ! 

The  Captain  came  on  deck  with  a  spy  glass  in  his  hand, 
But  the  night  it  was  so  dark  he  could  not  diskiver  land ; 
He  said  to  us,  with  a  faltering  voice,  while  tears  began  to  fall, 
Prepare  to  meet  your  death,  my  boys,  this  night  on  the  Canal ! 

The  Cook  she  being  kind-hearted,  she  loaned  us  an  old  dress, 
Which  we  raised  upon  a  setting-pole  as  a  signal  of  distress ; 
We  agreed  with  Restoration  aboard  the  Boat  to  bide, 
And  never  quit  her  deck  whilst  a  plank  hung  to  her  side. 

It  was  our  good  fortune,  about  the  break  of  day, 
The  storm  it  did  abate,  and  a  boat  came  by  that  way, 
Our  signal  was  discovered,  and  they  hove  along  side, 
And  we  all  jumped  aboard  and  for  Buffalo  did  ride. 

I  landed  in  Buffalo  about  twelve  o'clock ; 

The  first  place  I  went  to  was  down  upon  the  dock ; 

I  wanted  to  go  up  the  lake,  but  it  looked  rather  squally, 

When  along  came  Fred  Emmons  and  his  friend  Billy  Bally. 

Says  Fred,  How  do  you  do,  and  whar  have  you  been  so  long? 
Says  I,  For  the  last  fortnight  I've  been  on  the  Canal, 
For  it  stormed  all  the  time,  and  thar  was  the  devil  to  pay, 
When  we  got  in  Tonawandy  Creek,  we  thar  was  cast  away. 

Now,  says  Fred,  let  me  tell  you  how  to  manage  wind  and 

weather ; 
In  a  storm  hug  to  the  tow-path,  and  then  lay  feather  to  feather, 
And  when  the  weather  is  bad,  and  the  wind  it  blows  a  gale, 
Just  jump  ashore,  knock  down  a  horse — that's  taking  in  the 

sail. 


COMIC    SONGS.  259 

And  if  you  wish  to  see  both  sides  of  the  Canal, 
To  steer  your  course  to  Bumilo,  and  that  right  true  and  well, 
And  should  it  be  so  foggy  that  you  cannot  see  the  track, 
Just  call  the  driver  aboard  and  hitch  a  lantern  on  his  back. 

WHAT  ARE  YOU  GOING  TO  STAND? 

Tune — Nice  Young  Man. 

Queer  sayings  are  now  all  the  go, 

You  cannot  say  I'm  wrong; 
But  here  is  one  I'd  have  you  know, 

I've  worked  up  in  a  song. 
Where'er  I  go,  in  every  street, 

I'm  shook,  sirs,  by  the  hand, 
No  matter  who  it  is  I  meet, 

It's  Come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand  ? 

This  morn  I  went  to  get  some  cash, 

To  swell  at  the  west  end, 
Resolved  I  was  to  cut  a  dash, 

I  met  with  an  old  friend : 
I  told  him  of  the  errand  I'd  been, 

He  shook  me  by  the  hand, 
I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  old  boy,  says  he, 

Come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand  ? 

Says  I,  I  doesn't  mind  a  drop, 

My  spirits  it  will  rouse, 
So  off  we  toddled  to  a  shop, 

Quite  near  to r's  house. 

Inside  a  lot  began  to  shout, 

As  if  it  had  been  planned  : 
Rut  it  is  not  oft  we  catch  you  out, 

Come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand  ? 

My  expenses  amounted  to  a  dollar, 

My  cash  was  growing  shorter, 
The  liquor  now  down  they  did  swallow 

As  though  it  had  been  water. 
Just  then  a  gal  my  arm  did  pinch, 

Her  hide  I  could  have  tanned, 
Says  she,  For  oM  acquaintance  sake, 

Come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand? 


1  COMIC   SONGS. 

Egad,  thinks  I,  this  will  not  do, 

So  I  bolted  from  the  lot, 
But  run  against  a  man  I  knew, 

Ere  a  hundred  yards  I  got. 
I  told  him  of  the  set  I  left, 

Says  he,  I  understand, 
Now  since  you've  escaped  from  such  a  crew, 

Come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand  ? 

My  song  I  will  conclude  with  this, 

You'll  all  agree  I  think, 
That  this,  my  friends,  is  quite  the  age 

Of  intellect  for  drink. 
So,  when  the  boys  put  out  the  lights, 

I'll  take  the  manager  by  the  hand, 
There's  been  a  devilish  good  house  to-night, 

Old  boy,  come,  what  are  you  going  to  stand 

WHEN  I  WAS  OUT  A  SLEIGHING. 

It  snowed  so  hard  the  other  day, 
I  could  not  work,  I  could  not  play, 
And  so  I  hired  a  horse  and  sleigh, 
Resolved  to  go  a-sleighing. 

I  soon  put  on  my  Sunday  clothes, 
And  round  to  Sally  Russell's  goes, 
And  to  her  I  did  propose, 
That  she  would  ride  while  yet  it  snows. 
She  very  soon  gave  her  consent, 
But  as  my  money  was  most  spent, 
Tim  Bobbin  to  me  three  dollars  lent, 
All  for  to  go  a-sleighing. 

With  bells  a-ringing  all  the  way, 
Money  spent  and  thrown  away, 
Oh,  there  is  the  devil  to  pay, 

When  a  man  goes  out  a-sleighing. 

As  up  the  Main  Street  I  did  glide, 
With  Sally  Russell  by  my  side, 
To  cut  a  dash  both  of  us  tried, 

When  we  went  out  a-sleighing. 


COMIC    SONGS.  261 

But  some  naughty  boys  to  raise  a  din, 

To  snowball  us  they  did  begin, 

One  mashed  my  hat  down  o'er  my  chin, 

Then  stove  Miss  Russell's  bonnet  in. 

Miss  Russell  she  began  to  cry, 

I  turned  around  to  say,  oh,  fie, 

When  a  snow  ball  banged  me  in  the  eye, 

When  I  was  out  a-sleighing. 

Bells  a-ringing  all  the  way,  &c. 

I'd  been  very  glad  to  turn  back, 
Because  one  of  my  eyes  were  black. 
But  we  followed  up  the  railroad  track, 
Resolved  to  finish  sleighing. 

At  something  next  our  horse  took  fright, 
And  started  off  with  all  his  might, 
He  banged  the  sleigh  both  left  and  right, 
And  sent  Miss  Russell  in  a  snow  bank  tight. 
The  horse  with  me  away  he  sped, 
And  left  Miss  Russell  nearly  dead, 
And  the  wind  blew  the  false  curls  all  off  her  head, 
When  we  went  out  a-sleighing. 
Bells  a-ringing  all  the  way,  &c. 

For  assistance  Sally  she  did  shout, 
While  I  managed  to  turn  the  horse  about, 
But  cursed  the  hour  that  I  came  out, 
To  go  with  her  a-sleighing. 

To  get  her  out,  Sal  did  me  tease, 
And  soon  I  went  to  her  release, 
But  it  is  a  wonder  she  didn't  freeze, 
For  she  stuck  fast  in  snow  up  to  her  knees. 
But  what  was  worse  for  poor  Miss  Russell, 
In  the  snow  amid  the  tussle, 
The  strings  they  broke,  and  she  lost  her  bustle, 
When  I  was  out  a-sleighing, 
Bells  a-ringing  all  the  way,  &c. 

We  started  home  with  heavy  hearts, 
When  there  came  along  two  butchers'  carts, 
And  smashed  our  sleigh  in  twenty  parts, 
When  I  was  out  a-sleighing. 


262  COMIC   SONGS. 

So  since  our  horse  and  sleigh  was  gone, 

Poor  Sal  and  I  had  to  walk  home, 

And  for  the  damages  we  done, 

I  had  to  pay  a  pretty,  sum. 

But  my  bills  are  paid  and  all  is  right, 

And  folks,  when  you  go  home  to-night, 

Oh,  think  upon  my  doleful  plight, 

But  don't  go  out  a-sleighing. 
Bells  a-ringing  all  the  way,  &c. 


HERE'S  SUCCESS  TO  TODDY. 

A  POPULAR  CONVIVIAL  SONG. 

Here's  success  to  Toddy, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 

Here's  success  to  Toddy, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 

Oh,  here's  success  to  Toddy, 

For  it  cheers  both  soul  and  body. 

Then  here's  success  to  Toddy, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Wine, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Wine, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Wine, 
For  it  makes  you  feel  so  fine, 
Then  here's  success  to  Wine, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Sherry, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Sherry, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Sherry, 
For  it  makes  the  heart  so  merry, 
Then  here's  success  to  Sherry, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 


COMIC   SONGS. 

Here's  success  to  Whiskey, 

Prink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Whiskey, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Whiskey, 
For  it  makes  you  feel  so  frisky, 
Then  here's  success  to  Whiskey, 
Drink  it  dowu,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Punch, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Punch, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Punch, 
With  some  good  friends  in  a  bunch, 
Then  here's  success  to  Punch, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Gin, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Gin, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Gin, 
For  it  makes  the  heart  to  grin, 
Then  here's  success  to  Gin, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Brandy, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Brandy, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Brandy, 
For  it  makes  you  feel  so  handy, 
Then  here's  success  to  Brandy, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Port, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Port, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Port, 
But  let  it  be  of  the  right  sort, 
Then  here's  success  to  Port, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 


MM 


264  COMIC   SONGS. 

Here's  success  to  Beer, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Beer, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Beer, 
The  thirsty  soul  to  cheer, 
Then  here's  success  to  Beer, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Ale, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Ale, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Ale, 
That  will  make  you  strong  and  hale. 
Then  here's  success  to  Ale, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Porter, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Porter, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Porter, 
Of  strength  a  true  supporter, 
Then  here's  success  to  Porter, 
Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 

Here's  success  to  Lager, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Lager, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Lager, 
For  it  does  not  make  you  stagger, 
Then  here's  success  to  Lager, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Cider, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Here's  success  to  Cider, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Cider, 
For  it  makes  the  mirth  flow  wider, 
Then  here's  success  to  Cider, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 


COMIC   SONGS.  265 


Here's  success  to  Water, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Water. 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Water, 
On  the  earth's  remotest  quarter, 
Then  here's  success  to  Water, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 
Here's  success  to  Water, 
That  brings  no  care  or  slaughter, 
Here's  success  to  Water, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down, 
Oh,  here's  success  to  Water, 
'Tis  the  noblest  drink  in  nature, 
Then  here's  success  to  Water, 

Drink  it  down,  drink  it  down. 


GREAT  HEN  CONVENTION. 

A  FAMOUS  Hen  convention  was  held  at  Humbug  green, 

And  such  a  show  of  fuss  and  feathers  ne'er  before  was  seen, 

With  Malays,  Bantams,  Chittys,  and  Game  fowls  fine  and  tall, 

x>ut  Mister  Rooster  Shanghai  cut  the  biggest  swell  of  all. 

Chorus — 

It  was  cackle,  cackle,  cackle,  cackle,  flap  your  wings  and  crow, 

Shanghai  crowed  the  highest  at  the  great  convention  show, 

Tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck, 

Ti  taa,  tuck,  tuck,  ti  taa,  tuck,  tuck, 

Tuck",  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck,  tuck. 

Spoken — Shanghai's  crow,  all  crow. 

Says  Malay,  pulling  out  his  gills,  "  I  am  the  fairest  fowl," 
Says  Bantam,  "  You're  a  hen  pecked  race,  hen  hearted  with  no 

soul," 
Says  Shanghai, "  You  poor  Bantams  are  a  race  of  chicken  toys," 
Says  Bantam,  "If  you  peck  at  me  you'll  find  I'm  one  of  the 

b'hoys." 
Chorus —  * 

A  poultry  duel  came  on  straight,  'twas  Banty  and  Shanghai, 
A  crow  at  first,  and  then  a  clip,  and  then  the  feathers  fly, 
Young  Banty  spurr'd  him  flat  amid  a  loud  convention  crow, 
But  Shanghai  crowed  the  lowest  at  the  great  convention  show. 


266  COMIC   SONGS. 


NOTHING  AT  ALL. 

In  Derry  down  dale  when  I  wanted  a  mate, 
I  went  with  my  daddy,  a  courting  of  Kate, 
With  my  nosegay  so  fine,  in  my  holy-day  clothes, 
My  hands  in  my  pocket,  a  courting  I  goes. 
The  weather  was  cold,  and  my  bosom  was  hot, 
My  heart  in  a  gallop — my  mare  in  a  trot; 
Now  I  was  so  bashful,  so  loving  withal, 
My  tongue  stuck  to  my  mouth,  and  I  said 

Nothing  at  all. 


When  I  came  to  the  house,  I  look'd  bashful  and  grum, 
The  knocker  I  held  'twixt  my  finger  and  thumb, 
Rap  went  the  knocker,  Kate  show'd  her  chin, 
She  chuckled  and  buckled,  I  bow'd  and  went  in. 
Now  I  was  as  bashful  as  bashful  could  be, 
And  Kitty,  poor  soul,  was  as  bashful  as  me ; 
So  I  laugh'd,  and  I  grinn'd,  and  I  let  my  hat  fall, 
Giggled,  scratched  my  head,  and  said 

Nothing  at  all. 

If  bashful  was  I,  the  more  bashful  the  maid, 

She  simper'd  and  sigh'd,  with  her  apron  strings  play'd ; 

The  old  folks  impatient  to  have  the  thing  done, 

Agreed  that  my  Kitty  and  I  should  be  one. 

So,  then  we  young  ones  both  nodded  consent, 

Then  hand  in  hand  to  get  married  we  went, 

When  we  answered  the  parson,  in  voices  so  small, 

You  scarce  could  have  heard  us  say 

Nothing  at  all. 

- 

But  mark  what  a  change  in  the  course  of  a  week, 
My  Kate  left  off  blushing,  I  boldly  could  speak  ; 
Could  play  with  my  Kitty,  and  laugh  at  a  jest, 
And  Kate  could  talk,  ay  too,  as  well  as  the  best. 
And  talk'd  of  past  follies,  we  oft  have  declar'd, 
To  encourage  young  folks,  who  at  wedlock  are  scar'd; 
For  if  to  your  aid  some  assurance  you  call, 
You  may  kiss  and  get  married,  and  it's 

Nothing  at  all. 


COMIC  SONGS.  267 


OUR  MARY  ANN. 

Oh,  fare  you  well,  my  own  Mary  Ann, 

Fare  you  well  for  a  while, 
The  ship  is  ready,  and  the  wind  is  fair, 

And  I  am  bound  for  the  sea,  Mary  Ann. 

Oh,  didn't  you  see  your  turtile  dove, 

A  sittin'  on  yonder  pile, 
Lamenting  the  loss  of  his  own  true  love, 

And  so  am  I  for  my  Mary  Ann. 

Oh,  fare  you  well,  &c. 

A  lobster  in  a  lobster  pot, 

A  blue  fish  on  a  hook, 
May  suffer  some — but  you  know  not, 

What  I  do  feel  for  my  Mary  Ann. 
Oh,  fare  you  well,  &c. 

The  pride  of  all  the  produce  ground, 

The  dinner  kitchen-garden  fruit, 
Is  pumpkins  some,  but  can't  compare 
The  love  I  bear  for  my  Mary  Ann. 
Oh,  fare  you  well,  &c. 

Barney  Williams. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  GOOD  THINGS. 

A  glass  is  good  and  a  lass  is  good, 

And  a  pipe  to  smoke  in  cold  weather ; 
The  world  it  is  good,  and  the  people  are  good, 

And  we're  all  good  fellows  together. 
A  bottle  it  is  a  very  good  thing, 

With  a  good  deal  of  very  good  wine  in  it; 
A  song  is  good,  when  a  body  can  sing, 

And  to  finish  we  must  begin  it. 
A  table  is  good,  when  spread  with  good  cheer, 

And  good  company  sitting  round  it ; 
When  a  good  way  off,  we  are  not  very  near, 

And  for  sorrow  the  devil  confound  it. 

A  glass  is  good,  &c. 


268  COMIC   SONGS. 

A  friend  is  good,  when  you're  out  of  good  luck, 

For  that's  a  good  time  to  try  him ; 
For  a  justice  good,  the  haunch  of  a  buck, 

With  such  a  good  present  you  buy  him. 
A  wife  is  good  when  she's  good  to  her  man, 

If  not  she's  good  for  nothing; 
A  home  is  good  if  its  only  a  pen, 

Where  good  content  comes  soothing. 

A  glass  is  good,  &c. 


THE  COVE  WHAT  SPOUTS. 

I  will  tell  you  in  my  song  what  happened  the  other  night, 
Not  detain  you  long,  and  in  that  you  will  say  I  am  right  ; 
My  name  is — no  matter  what,  and  I  don't  live  here  abouts, 
But  I  am  welcome  everywhere,  for  I  am  the  cove  what  spouts. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

At  the  theatre  the  other  night  Booth  did  Richard  play, 
"  Down,  down  to  hell,"  he  cried;  poor  Harry  soon  gave  way, 
That  night  I  got  so  drunk,  in  a  tavern  I  let  out, 
"  Give  me  another  horse,  bind — "  like  Richard  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

A  watchman  took  me  up,  to  the  station-house  he  led, 
And  in  a  dirty  cell,  made  me  sleep  without  a  bed ; 
In  a  phrenzy  I  arose,  seized  another  by  the  snout, 
"  Grive  me  my  pound  of  flesh,"  like  Shylock  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

<c  Oh,  murder !  help  !"  he  cried ;  the  people  flocked  around, 

But  I  was  remorseless,  and  stuck  up  for  my  pound; 

The  policemen  they  run  in,  while  the  blood  from  his  snout 

run  out, 
"Blood,  blood,  Iago,"  like  Othello  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

A  policeman  collar'd  me,  the  nose  I  had  to  quit, 
But  soon  I  turned  on  him,  and  between  the  eyes  I  hit, 
With  such  a  murderous  whack,  it  made  him  roar  and  shout, 
u  Come  on,  come  on,  Macduff,"  like  Macbeth  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 


COMIC   SONGS.  269 

11  Oh,  murder !  help  !"  he  cried ;  the  policemen  in  did  pour, 
And  in  a  combined  attack  got  me  down  upon  the  floor; 
Said   they,  "  We've   got   you  now,  you  shall  suffer  too,  no 

doubt/' 
"  Lay  me  in  the  grave  with  Juliet,"  like  Romeo  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

Next  morning  before  the  Mayor,  they  took  me  to  be  tried, 
And  there,  with  looks  severe,  me  his  honor  quickly  eyed ; 
Said  he,  "Pray  who  are  you  that  dare  kick  up  such  a  rout?" 
"  I  am  thy  father's  ghost,"  from  Hamlet  I  did  spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 

The  people  laughed  at  me,  his  honor  looked  amazed, 
"  My  father's  ghost!"  said  he;  why  the  man  is  surely  crazed; 
"  For  three  months  lock  him  up,  it's  not  safe  to  let  him  out," 
They  gave  me  thirty  days  below,  for  showing  them  how  to 
spout. 

Ri  tol  de,  &c. 


WE'RE  ALL  CUTTING; 

OR  THE  WAY  THROUGH  LIFE. 
Air. — "  Nervous  Family." 

We're  all  cutting — cut,  cut,  cutting, 

We  are  all  cutting  our  way  through  life ; 

Dame  nature  cuts  out  man,  to  cut  his  way  through  life, 

So  being  termed  a  cutter,  we'll  compare  him  to  a  knife ; 

The  little  baby  blade  has  scarce  begun  to  breathe, 

When  a  cutting  it  begins,  you  know,  by  cutting  of  its  teeth. 

Chorus. — So  we're  all  cutting — cut,  cut,  cutting, 

So  we're  all  cutting  our  way  through  life. 

Childhood's  a  doll's  knife,  quite  delicate  and  pretty, 
And  parents  love  their  little  ones  to  be  consider'd  smart; 
To  learn  their  A.  B.  C. — the  first  book  the  parent  puts 
Into  the  hands  of  a  child,  is  a  book  quite  full  of  cuts; 
Then  follows  cutting  horses,  cutting  hoops,  and  cutting  tops- 
Its  cutting  once  begun,  you  know,  its  cutting  never  stops. 
So  we're  all  cutting,  &c. 


270  COMIC   SONGS. 

Boyhood  is  a  cheese-knife,  only  fit  for  minor  uses, 
Requiring  some  management  to  bend  it  to  your  will; 
He  follows  running  coaches,  to  show  the  cutting  times, 
And  if  you  sing  out,  Cut  before,  he  sings  out,  Cut  behind; 
And  as  the  youth  grows  older,  the  girls  begin  to  bother, 
He  falls  in  love  with  one  girl,  and  he  cuts  her  for  another. 
So  we're  all  cutting,  &c. 

The  beau  is  a  blade  set  in  a  buckhorn  handle, 
Who  soon  will  cut  his  tailor,  if  he  does  not  cut  out  smart; 
His  only  endeavor  is,  through  life  to  cut  a  figure, 
Behold  now  on  horseback,  how  he  cuts  along  with  vigor; 
And  as  he  walks  the  streets,  he  seems  to  ask  each  belle, 
Oh,  hang  it,  charming  creature,   don't  you  think   I  cut   a 
swell  ? 


So  we're  all  cutting,  &c. 


Ladies  they  are  fruit  knives,  set  in  pearl  and  ivory, 
Cutting  up  the  hearts  of  men  according  to  deserts ; 
At  opera  or  playhouse,  at  a  ball  or  at  a  rout, 
Their  only  endeavor  is,  to  cut  each  other  out; 
The  coquette  she  cuts  many  hearts  to  the  core, 
And  the  widow  is  for  cutting  out  one  loving  husband  more. 
So  we're  all  cutting,  &c. 


PHILOSOPHY. 

OR  TWO  SIDES  OF  THE  WAY. 
Air. — "  Judy's  Blade  Eyes." 


;Tis  a  folly  to  think  of  life's  troubles, 

There's  always  two  sides  of  the  way ; 
If  one  be  in  the  shade  the  chance  doubles, 

The  other  looks  cheerful  and  gay. 
We  know  it  looks  sad  to  be  sighing, 

Yet  there's  good  in  it,  wisdom  decides ; 
For  the  man  who  with  grief  thinks  he's  dying, 

With  laughter  will  ne'er  crack  his  sides. 
'Tis  a  folly,  &c. 


COMIO  SONGS.  271 

If  a  man  all  bis  teeth  chance  to  lack, 

He's  sure  they  won't  give  him  no  pain; 
If  a  man  has  no  coat  to  his  back, 

He's  sure  it  won't  spoil  with  the  rain. 
If  a  man  has  no  money  to  mind, 

He  may  save  the  expense  of  a  purse; 
And  if  a  man's  perfectly  blind, 

He's  sure  that  his  sight  won't  grow  worse. 
'Tis  a  folly,  &c. 

If  a  man  has  but  one  shirt  at  most, 

There's  no  trouble  to  think  which  he'll  use ; 
And  the  man  who's  as  deaf  as  a  post, 

Will  never  hear  unwelcome  news. 
If  light-headed,  why  still  we  are  right, 

For  there's  comfort  to  think  it  not  madness; 
And  the  man  who  gets  drunk  day  and  night, 

He  never  will  feel  sober  sadness. 
'Tis  a  folly,  &c. 

To  be  without  hands,  though  no  blessing, 

Thus  some  good  economy  proves  ; 
Though  awkward  we  find  it  when  dressing, 

We  ne'er  can  be  in  want  of  new  gloves. 
To  be  without  legs,  though  queer  talking, 

We  can  ne'er  break  our  shins,  it  is  plain ; 
For  the  man  who's  no  feet  to  go  walking, 

Won't  be  troubled  with  chilblains  again. 
?Tis  a  folly,- &c. 

If  but  little  your  own  you  can  call, 

'Tis  quite  certain  but  little  you'll  pay; 
And  if  you've  got  nothing  at  all, 

You're  sure  they  won't  take  it  away. 
Strange  stories  may  find  new  upholders, 

But  one  thing  you'll  grant,  which  is  that, 
If  a  man  has  no  head  on  his  shoulders, 

He  won't  care  a  d n  for  a  hat. 

'Tis  a  folly,  &c. 


272  COMIC   SONGS. 

HARD   TIMES. 

As  sung  by  Dan.  Gardiner,  the  Clown. 
Come  listen  awhile  and  give  ear  to  my  song, 
Concerning  these  hard  times,  it  will  not  take  you  long, 
How  every  one  is  trying  each  other  to  bite, 
And  in  cheating  each  other  they  swear  they  do  right. 

In  these  very  hard  times, 

And  it  is  nothing  but  hard  times  wherever  we  go. 

The  baker  will  cheat  you  in  the  bread  that  you  eat, 
And  so  will  the  butcher  in  the  weight  of  his  meat, 
He  will  tip  up  the  steelyards  to  make  them  go  down, 
And  swear  it  is  weight  when  it  lacks  half  a  pound. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

The  ladies  must  all  have  their  silks  and  their  laces, 
And  things  they  call  bonnets  to  show  off  their  faces, 
Their  figure  however,  can  never  be  seen, 
For  they  are  hooped  like  a  barrel  with  French  crinoline. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

There  is  the  tinker,  he  will  mend  all  your  ware, 
For  little  or  nothing,  some  ale,  or  some  beer, 
But  before  he  bergins  he  will  get  half  drunk  or  more, 
And  in  stopping  one  hole  he  will  punch  twenty  more. 

In- these  very,  &c. 

Oh,  there  is  the  barber  who  lathers  for  pelf,     . 
He  will  shave  every  blockhead  that  can't  shave  himself, 
A  dime  he  will  have  from  his  friends  or  his  foes, 
Or  else  he  will  never  let  go  of  your  nose. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

There  is  the  doctor,  he  will  cure  all  your  ills, 
With  his  puffs,  and  his  powders,  his  syrup  of  squills, 
He  will  give  you  a  dose  that  will  make  you  grow  fat, 
Or  some  pills  that  will  leave  but  your  boots  and  your  hat. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

The  judge  on  his  bench  so  honest  and  true, 
He  will  stare  at  a  man  as  though  he  would  look  him  through, 
He  will  send  you  a  year  or  six  months  to  the  jail, 
And  for  five  dollars  more,  why  he  will  go  your  bail. 

In  these  very,  &c. 


COMIC   SONGS.  278 

Oh,  there  are  the  ladies,  the  sweet  little  dears, 
At  the  balls  and  the  parties  how  nice  they  appear, 
With  whalebones  and  corsets  themselves  they  will  squeeze, 
And  you  have  to  unlace  them  before  they  can  sneeze. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

There  are  the  lawyers,  I  had  almost  forgot, 
They  are  the  very  worst  ones  that  we  have  in  the  lot, 
They  will  cheat,  lie,  and  swindle,  and  say  they  do  right, 
And  for  one  dime  apiece  they  will  steal  sheep  in  the  night. 

In  these  very,  &c. 

The  last  is  the  sheriff,  who  thinks  himself  wise, 
He  will  come  to  your  house  with  a  big  pack  of  lies, 
He  will  take  all  your  property  that  he  can  sell, 
Get  drunk  on  the  money,  or  cut  a  great  swell. 

In  these  very,  &c. 


THE  DAYS  WHEN  I  WAS  HARD  UP. 

In  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up, 

Not  many  months  ago, 
I  suffered  that  which  only  can 

The  sons  of  misery  know. 
Relations,  friends,  companions, 

They  all  turned  up  their  nose, 
And  rated  me  a  vagabond,       I 

For  want  of  better  clothes. 


Chorus. 


In  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up, 

In  want  of  food  and  fire, 
I  used  to  tie  my  shoes  up 

With  little  bits  of  wire. 
When  huugry,  cold,  cast  on  a  rock, 

And  could  not  get  a  meal, 
Oh  !  how  I  beat  the  devil  down, 

For  tempting  me  to  steal  ! 
18 


274  COMIC   SONGS. 

Id  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up 
For  furniture  and  drugs, 

Many  a  summer's  eve  I've  held 
Communion  with  the  bugs  ; 

I  never  faced  them  with  a  pike, 
Or  mashed  them  on  the  wall, 


I  said  the  world  was  wide  enough — 
Here's  room  enough  for  all. 


In  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up, 

I  used  to  lock  my  door, 
For  fear  my  landlady  would  say 

You  can  lodge  here  no  more. 
But  from  out  my  own  back  drawing  room, 

That  is  ten  feet  by  six, 
In  the  work  house  wall  just  opposite, 

I've  counted  all  the  bricks. 


In  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up, 

I  felt  my  spirits  lower, 
And  often  have  I  sought  a  friend 

To  borrow  half  a  dollar. 
How  many  are  there  in  this  world 

Whose  evils  I  can  scan, 
The  fancy  suits  that  they  do  wear, 

But  cannot  see  the  man  ! 

In  the  days  when  I  was  hard  up, 

I  had  a  blissful  hope, 
'Tis  all  a  poor  man's  heritage, 

To  save  him  from  the  rope ; 
But  I  found  this  good  old  maxim, 

And  this  shall  be  my  plan, 
If  I  should  wear  a  ragged  coat, 

I'll  jvear  it  like  a  man. 


COMIC    SONGS.  275 


THE  MIGHTY  DOLLAR  OR  TWO. 

"With  cautious  steps,  as  we  tread  our  way  through 
This  intricate  world,  as  other  folks  do, 
May  we  still  on  our  journey  be  able  to  view 
The  benevolent  face  of  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 
For  an  excellent  thing  is  a  "  Dollar  or  Two;" 
No  friend  is  so  true  as  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 
Through  country  or  town,  as  we  pass  up  and  down, 
No  passport  so  good  as  a  "Dollar  or  Two." 

"Would  you  read  yourself  out  of  the  bachelor  crew, 
And  the  hand  of  a  female  divinity  sue, 
You  must  always  be  ready  the  handsome  to  do, 
Although  it  should  cost  you  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 
Love's  arrows  are  tipped  with  a  "  Dollar  or  Two ;" 
And  affection  is  gained  by  a  "Dollar  or  Two;" 
The  best  aid  you  can  meet  in  advancing  your  suit, 
Is  the  eloquent  chink  of  a  "Dollar  or  Two." 

"Would  you  wish  your  existence  with  faith  to  imbue, 
And  enrolled  in  the  ranks  of  the  sanctified  few, 
To  earn  a  good  name  and  a  well-cushioned  pew, 
You  must  freely  come  down  with  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 
A  lawsuit  is  gained  by  a  "  Dollar  or  Two;" 
And  rogues  are  oft  cleared  by  a  "Dollar  or  Two;" 
You  may  sin  some  at  times,  but  the  worst  of  all  crimes 
Is  to  find  yourself  short  of  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 

If  you  wish  a  fat  post  that  will  pay  pretty  true, 

Or  :i  lever  to  put  a  new  dodge  neatly  through, 

To  bring  legislative  folks  down  to  your  view, 

'Tis  but  to  come  down  with  a  "  Dollar  or  Two." 

For  an  office  is  bought  by  a  "  Dollar  or  Two," 

A  battle's  oft  won  by  a  "  Dollar  or  Two," 

Few  people  will  care  how  you  live — what  you  do, 

Whilst  you  show  them  "  the  almighty  Dollar  or  Two." 


276  COMIC   SONGS. 


TEA  IN  THE  ARBOR. 

What  pleasure  folks  feel  when  they  live  out  of  town, 

In  the  culture  of  turnips  and  flowers, 
And  getting  a  friend  now  and  then  to  come  down, 

To  look  at  their  walks  and  their  bowers; 
And  such  is  the  taste  of  some  dear  friends  of  mine, 

Mister,  Mistress,  and  Miss  Mary  Barbor, 
Who  will  oft  have  me  come  to  their  villa  to  dine, 
And  then  to  take  tea  in  the  arbor; 

Where  there  are  sweet  lilies  and  dafFydowndillies, 

Perfume  like  the  shop  of  a  barber; 
And  roses  and  posies  to  scent  up  your  noses, 
Then  come  and  take  tea  in  the  arbor. 

As  oft  as  I  can  I  decline  their  invite, 

For  of  rural  delights  I'm  no  lover; 
Of  insects  and  reptiles  I  can't  bear  the  sight, 

Oh !  they  e'er  make  me  shudder  all  over : 
And  when  I  went  there  a  great  frog  made  me  jump, 

Which  was  excellent  fun  to  Miss  Barbor, 
Then  there  was  a  long  caterpillar  fell  plump 

In  my  first  cup  of  tea  in  the  arbor. 

Of  little  green  flies  on  my  dress  came  a  host, 

And  a  bee  put  me  all  in  a  flutter; 
A  great  daddy-long-legs  stuck  fast  on  my  toast 

And  left  one  of  his  limbs  in  the  butter : 
On  the  sugar  six  blue-bottles  sat  hob-a-nob, 

And  while  I  discoursed  with  old  Barbor, 
From  above  a  black  spider  swung  bibbity-bob 

In  my  chops,  as  I  sat  in  the  arbor. 

In  the  fields  at  our  back,  boys  were  shooting  at  crows, 

And  a  shot  coming  through,  I  was  wounded; 
To  expostulate  with  them  of  course  I  arose, 

And  I  climb'd  up  the  pailings  that  bounded  : 
When  behold  my  nankeens  were  bedaub' d  and  crossbarr'd ; 

"  Oh,  I  ought  to  be  flogg'd,"  said  old  Barbor, 
"I  neglected  to  tell  you  the  pailings  were  tarr'd, 

When  I  asked  you  to  tea  in  the  arbor. " 


COMIC  SONGS.  277 

Then  I  happened  to  tread  where  a  man  trap  was  set, 

Which  snapping,  my  leg  held  fast  in,  sir, 
And  ere  I  got  out,  it  came  on  heavy  wet, 

And  I  was  soaked  through  to  the  skin,  sir : 
In  a  very  bad  temper  I  homeward  did  jog, 

Next  morning  I  wrote  to  Miss  Barbor, 
That  smashed  in  my  pocket  I  found  the  big  frog, 
That  frightened  me  first  in  the  arbor. 

And  tho'  there  be  lilies  and  daffydowndillies, 

Said  I,  in  my  note  to  Miss  Barbor, 
And  roses  perfuming,  excuse  me  from  coming, 
Again  to  take  tea  in  the  arbor. 


"OUT,"  OR  HOW  TO  DO  THE  DUNS. 

Out  John,  out  John,  what  are  you  about,  John  ? 
If  you  don't  say  out  at  once,  you  make  the  fellow  doubt,  John. 
Say  I'm  out  whoever  calls,  and  hide  my  hat  and  cane,  John  ; 
Say  you've  not  the  least  idea  when  I  shall  come  again,  John, 
Let  the  people  leave  their  bills,  but  tell  them  not  to  call,  John, 
Say  I'm  courting  Miss  Rupee,  and  mean  to  pay  them  all,  John. 

Out  John,  run  John,  what  are  you  about,  John  ? 

If  you  don't  say  out  at  once,  you  make  the  fellow  doubt,  John. 

Run  John,  run  John,  there's  another  dun,  John, 
If  it's  Podger  bid  him  gall  to-morrow  week  at  one,  Joho, 
If  he  says  he  saw  me  at  the  window  as  he  knock'd,  John, 
Make  a  face  and  shake  your  head  and  tell  him  you  are  shock'd, 

John; 
Take  your  pocket  handkerchief,  and  put  it  your  eye,  John, 
Say  your  master's  not  the  man  to  bid  you  tell  a  lie,  John. 
Out  John,  out  John,  &c. 

Oh,  John,  go  John,  there's  Noodle's  knock  I  know,  John; 
Tell  him  that  all  yesterday  you  sought  him  high  and  low,  John; 
Tell  him  just  before  he  came  you  saw  me  mount  the  hill,  John : 
Say  you  think  I'm  only  gone  to  pay  his  little  bill,  John ; 
Then  I  think  you'd  better  add  that  if  I  miss  to-day,  John, 
You're  sure  I  mean  to  call  when  next  I  pass  his  way,  John 
Out  John,  out  John,  &c. 


278  COMIC   SONGS. 

Hie  John,  fly  John,  I  will  tell  you  why,  John, 
If  there  is  not  Grimshaw  at  the  corner,  may  I  die,  John, 
He  will  hear  of  no  excuse,  I'm  sure  he'll  search  the  house,  John, 
Peeping  into  corners  hardly  fit  to  hold  a  mouse,  John. 
Beg  he'll  take  a  chair  and  wait,  I  know  he  won't  refuse,  John, 
Til  pop  through  the  little  door  that  opens  to  the  mews,  John. 
Out  John,  out  John,  &c. 


WHAT  IS  A  BACHELOR  LIKE? 

Why,  a  pump  without  a  handle, 

A  mouldy  tallow  candle ! 

A  goose  that's  lost  his  fellows, 

A  noseless  pair  of  bellows, 

A  horse  without  a  saddle, 

A  boat  without  a  paddle ; 

A  mule — a  fool, 

A  two-legged  stool ! 

A  pest — a  jest ! 

Dreary— weary — 

Contrary — unchary — 
A  fish  without  a  tail, 
A  ship  without  a  sail, 
A  legless  pair  of  tongs, 
A  fork  without  its  prongs, 
A  clock  without  a  face — 
A  pig  that's  out  of  place ! 
A  bootless  leg — an  addled  egg ! 
A  stupid  flat — a  crownless  hat* 
A  pair  of  breeches,  wanting  stitches  I 
A  chattering  ape — coat  minus  cape ! 
A  quacking  duck,  wanting  pluck ! 
A  gabbling  goose — mad  dog  let  loose  ! 

A  boot  without  a  sole,    N 

Or  a  cracked  and  leaky  bowl, 

Or  a  fiddle  without  a  string, 

Or  a  bee  without  its  sting, 

Or  a  bat — or  a  sprat, 

Or  a  cat — or  a  hen, 

Or  a  rat — or  a  wren, 

Or  a  gnat — or  a  pig  in  a  pen  ! 


COMIC  SONGS.  279 

Or  a  thrush  that  will  not  sing  I 

Or  a  bell  that  will  not  ring ! 

Or  a  penny  that  "  won't  go  l" 

Or  a  herring  without  roe ! 

Or  a  line  without  a  lead  ! 

Or  a  drum  without  a  head ! 

Or  a  monkey — or  a  donkey ! 

Or  a  surley  dog,  tied  to  a  log ! 

Or  a  frog  in  a  bog ! 

Or  a  fly  in  a  mug ! 

Or  a  bug  in  a  rug ! 

Or  a  bee — or  a  flea — 

Or  a  last  year's  pea, 

Or  a  figure  3  ! 
Like  a  bell  without  a  tongue — 
Like  a  barrel  without  a  bung — 
Like  a  whale — like  a  snail — 
Like  an  owl — like  a  fowl — 
Like  a  priest  without  bis  cowl ! 
Like  a  midnight  ghoul — 
Like  a  gnome  in  his  cell — 
Like  a  clapperless  bell — 
Like  a  man  down  in  a  well, 
He's  a  poor  forsaken  gander, 
Choosing  lonely  thus  to  wander! 
He's  like  a  walking  stick,  or  satchel,  or— 
But  to  be  plain, 
And  end  my  strain, 
He's  like  nought  but — a  Bachelor! 


HERE'S  TO  THE  MAIDEN. 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 

Likewise,  to  the  widow  of  fifty ; 
Here's  to  the  bold  and  extravagant  quean, 
And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 
Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
I  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 
Let  the  toast  pass,  &c. 


28C  COMIC   SONGS. 

Here's  to  the  maiden  whose  dimples  we  prize, 

Likewise  to  her  that  has  none,  sir, 
Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  pair  of  black  eyes, 

And  here's  to  her  that's  but  one,  sir. 
Let  the  toast  pass,  &c. 

Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  bosom  of  snow, 
And  to  her  that's  as  brown  as  a  berry; 

Here's  to  the  wife  with  a  face  full  of  woe, 

And  here's  to  the  girl  that  is  merry. 

Let  the  toast  pass,  &c. 

Let  her  be  clumsy,  or  let  her  be  slim 

Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather ; 
So  fill  a  pint  bumper  quite  up  to  the  brim, 
And  e'en  let  us  toast  them  together. 
Let  the  toast  pass,  &c. 

R.  B.  Sheeidait. 


m 


ETHIOPIAN  SONGS 


GENTLE  JENNIE  GRAY. 

My  heart  is  sad,  I'll  tell  you  why, 

If  you'll  listen  to  my  lay, 
Which  makes  me  weep,  when  e'er  I  sing, 

Of  my  gentle  Jennie  Gray  ; 
But  I  never  can  forget  the  days, 

When  with  Jennie  by  my  side, 
We  talked  of  love  and  happiness, 
When  she  should  be  my  bride. 
Chorus. — Hush  the  banjo,  toll  the  bell, 
I'm  very  sad  to-day, 
I  cannot  work,  so  let  me  weep, 
For  my  gentle  Jennie  Gray. 

My  Jennie  had  the  sweetest  face, 

And  eyes  of  sparkling  jet, 
With  lips  like  new-born  roses, 

She  was  my  darling  pet; 
But  Death,  he  called  one  morning, 

And  took  my  love  away, 
And  left  me  lonely  weeping, 

For  my  gentle  Jennie  Gray. 
Hush  the  banjo,  &c. 


(281) 


282 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 


And  in  the  ground  they  laid  her, 

Close  by  my  cabin  door ; 
A  rude  stone  marks  the  spot, 

Where  she  sleeps  to  wake  no  more; 
While  at  her  grave  I'm  weeping, 

At  every  close  of  day, 
I  fancy  then,  she's  sleeping, 

And  not  dead  !  my  Jennie  Gray. 
Hush  the  banjo,  &c. 

OLD  FOLKS  AT  HOME. 

Way  down  upon  the  Swanee  ribber, 

Far,  far  away ; 
Dere's  wha  my  heart  is  turning  ebber, 

Dere's  wha  de  old  folks  stay. 
All  up  and  down  the  whole  creation, 

Sadly  I  roam ; 
Still  longing  for  de  old  plantation, 
And  for  de  old  folks  at  home. 
Chorus. — All  de  world  am  sad  and  dreary, 
Ebery  where  I  roam  ; 
Oh  !  darkies,  how  my  heart  grows  weary, 
Far  from  de  old  folks  at  home. 

All  round  de  little  farm  I  wandered, 

When  I  was  young ; 
Den  many  happy  days  I  squandered, 

Many  de  songs  I  sung. 
When  I  was  playing  wid  my  brudder, 

Happy  was  I; 
Oh  !  take  me  to  my  kind  old  mudder, 

Dere  let  me  live  and  die. 

All  de  world  am  sad  and  dreary,  &c. 

One  little  hut  among  de  bushes, 

One  dat  I  love ; 
Still  sadly  to  my  memory  rushes, 

No  matter  where  I  rove. 
When  will  I  see  the  bees  a.  humming, 

All  round  de  comb  ? 
When  will  I  hear  the  banjo  tumming, 

Down  in  my  good  old  home  ? 

All  de  world  am  sacl  and  dreary,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN    SOXG3.  283 


NELLY  GRAY. 

There's  a  low  green  valley  on  the  old  Kentucky  shore, 

There  I've  whiled  many  happy  hours  away, 
A  sitting  and  a  singing  by  the  little  cottage  door, 

Where  lived  my  darling  Nelly  Gray. 
Chorus. — 

Oh,  my  poor  Nelly  Gray,  they  have  taken  you  away, 

And  I'll  never  see  my  darling  any  more, 
I'm  sitting  by  the  river,  and  I'm  weeping  all  the  day, 
For  you've  gone  from  old  Kentucky  shore. 

When  the  moon  had  climb'd  the  mountain,  and  the  stars  were 
shining  too, 
Then  I'd  tak«  my  darling  Nelly  Gray, 
And  we'd  float  down  the  river  in  my  little  canoe — 
While  my  banjo  sweetly  I  would  play. 
Oh,  my  poor  Nelly  Gray,  &c. 

One  night  I  went  to  see  her,  but  the  neighbors  bid  me  stay, 

An'  that  I  should  never  see  her  more ; 
That  they  had  taken  her  far,  far  away, 

Far  from  de  old  Kentucky  shore. 
Oh,  my  poor  Nelly  Gray,  &c. 

My  canoe  is  under  water,  and  my  banjo  is  unstrung, 

I'm  tired  of  living  any  more ; 
My  eyes  shall  look  downward,  and  my  songs  shall  be  unsung, 

While  I  stay  on  old  Kentucky  shore. 
Oh,  my  poor  Nelly  Gray,  &c. 

My  eyes  are  getting  blinded,  and  I  cannot  see  my  way, 

Hark  !  there's  somebody  knocking  at  the  door; 
Oh,  I  hear  the  angels  calling,  and  I  see  my  Nelly  Gray; 

Farewell  to  the  old  Kentucky  shore. 
Chorus. — 
Oh,  my  Nelly  Gray,  up  in  heaven  there  they  say, 

That  they  will  never  take  you  from  me  any  more ; 
I'm  a  coming,  coming,  coming,  as  the  angels  clear  the  way, 
Farewell  to  the  old  Kentucky  shore. 


284  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 


MASSA'S  IN  THE  COLD,  COLD  GROUND. 

Round  the  meadows  am  a  ringing, 

The  darkies'  mournful  song, 
While  the  mocking-bird  is  singing, 

Happy  as  the  day  is  long. 
"Where  the  ivy  is  a  creeping, 
^^         O'er  the  grassy  mound, 

There  old  massa  is  a  sleeping, 
I    Sleeping  in  the  cold,  cold  ground. 
Chorus. — Down  in  the  corn-field, 

Hear  that  mournful  sound ; 
All  the  darkies  are  a  weeping — 
Massa' s  in  the  cold,  cold  ground 

When  the  autumn  leaves  were  falling, 

When  the  days  were  cold, 
'Twas  hard  to  hear  old  massa  calling, 

'Cause  he  was  so  weak  and  old. 
Now  the  orange  tree  is  blooming 

On  the  sandy  shore, 
Now  the  summer  days  are  coming, 

Massa  never  calls  no  more. 

Down  in  the  corn-field,  &c. 


Massa  made  the  darkies  love  him, 

He  always  was  so  kind, 
Now  they  sadly  weep  above  him, 

Mourning,  for  he  leave  them  behind, 
I  cannot  work  before  to-morrow, 

So  many  tear-drops  flow, 
I  try  to  drive  away  my  sorrow, 

Picking  on  the  old  banjo. 

Down  in  the  corn-field,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  285 

DOLLY  DAY. 

I'VE  told  you  'bout  de  banjo, 

De  fiddle  and  de  bow, 
Likewise  about  the  cotton  field, 

De  shubble  and  de  hoe ; 
Fve  sung  about  the  bulgine, 

Dat  blow  the  folks  away, 
An'  now  I'll  sine;  a  little  song, 

About  my  Dolly  Day. 
Oh,  Dolly  Day  looks  so  gay, 

I  run  all  round  and  round, 
To  hear  her  fairy  footsteps  play, 

As  she  comes  o'er  de  ground. 
I  like  to  see  de  clober 

Dat  grows  about  de  lane, 
I  like  to  see  de  'bacco  plant, 

I  like  de  sugar  cane; 
But  on  de  ole  plantation 

Dar's  nothing  half  so  gay, 
Dar's  nothing  dat  I  love  so  much 

As  my  sweet  Dolly  Day. 
Oh,  Dolly  Day,  &c. 
When  de  work  is  ober, 

I  make  de  banjo  play, 
An'  while  I  strike  the  dulcem  notes, 

I  tink  ob  Dolly  Day. 
Her  form  am  like  a  posy — 

De  lily  of  the  vale. 
Her  voice  am  far  de  sweetest  sound 

Dat  floats  upon  de  gale. 
Oh,  Dolly  Day,  &c. 

Massa  gib  me  money 

To  buy  a  peck  of  corn, 
I'se  gwine  to  marry  Dolly  Day, 

And  build  myself  a  barn  ; 
Den  when  I'm  old  an'  feeble, 

V  when  my  head  am  gray, 
I'll  trabble  down  de  hill  ob  life, 
Along  wid  Dolly  Day. 
i,  Dolly  Day,  &c. 


286  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 


FAREWELL,  MY  LILLY  DEAR. 

Oh  !  Lilly,  dear,  it  grieves  me, 

The  tale  I  have  to  tell ; 
Old  Massa  sent  me  roaming, 

So  Lilly,  fare  you  well ! 
Oh  !  fare  you  well  my  true  love, 

Farewell  old  Tennessee, 
Then  let  me  weep  for  you,  love, 

But  do  not  weep  for  me. 
Chorus — Farewell  for  ever  to  old  Tennessee, 

Farewell,  my  Lilly  dear,  don't  weep  for  me. 

Fs  going  to  roam  the  wide  world 

In  lands  I've  never  hoed, 
With  nothing  but  my  banjo 

To  cheer  me  on  the  road ; 
And  when  I'm  sad  and  weary 

I'll  make  the  banjo  play, 
To  'mind  me  of  my  true  love 

When  I  am  far  away. 
Farewell  for  ever,  &c. 

I  wake  up  in  the  morning, 
-    And  walk  out  on  the  farm, 
Oh  !  Lilly  am  a  darling — 

She  takes  me  by  the  arm. 
We  wander  through  the  clover 

Down  by  the  river  side, 
I  tell  her  that  I  love  her, 

And  she  must  be  my  bride 
Farewell  for  ever,  &c. 

Oh  !  Lilly,  dear,  'tis  mournful 

To  leave  you  here  alone  ; 
You'll  smile  before  I  leave  you, 

And  weep  when  I  am  gone. 
The  sun  can  never  shine,  love, 

So  bright  for  you  and  me, 
As  when  I  worked  beside  you 

In  good  old  Tennessee. 
Farewell  for  ever,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  287 

AINT  I  GLAD  TO  GET  OUT  OF  THE  WILDER- 
NESS? 

Music —     Turn,  Turn,  Turn,  Turn, 
CJiorus —  Ahaa — Ahaa — Ahaa — Ahaa. 
Solo —       Way  down  south  in  Beaver  Creek, 
In  Beaver  Creek,  in  Beaver  Creek, 
De  niggers — dey  grow  about  ten  feet, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Chorus —  Oh,  aint  I  glad  we  get  out  of  the  wilderness, 
Out  of  the  wilderness  ? 

Oh,  aint  we  glad  we  got  out  of  the  wilderness, 
And  left  old  Alabam  ? 
[Symphony  with  Dance  as  above.] 

Solo —       Dey  wet  de  ground  wid  bacca  smoke, 

Wid  bacca  smoke,  wid  bacca  and  smoke, 
When  out  of  de  ground  dar  heads  do  poke, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Dance  &  Chorus — Oh,  aint  I  glad,  &c. 

Solo —       My  wife's  dead,  an'  I'll  get  anuder  one, 
I'll  get  anuder  one,  I'll  get  anuder  one, 
My  wife's  dead,  an'  I'll  get  anuder  one, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Oh,  aint  I  glad,  &c. 

Solo —       I  met  a  catfish  in  de  ribber, 
In  de  ribber,  in  de  ribber. 
I  golly,  it  made  dis  nigger  shiver, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Oh,  aint  I  glad,  &c. 

Solo—       I  steered  right  straight  for  de  critter's  snout, 
De  critter's  snout,  de  critter's  snout, 
Turned  the  catfish  inside  out, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Oh,  aint  I  glad,  &c. 

Solo —       Oh,  here  we  go  now  altogether, 
All  together,  all  together, 
Nebber  mind  de  wind  or  wedder, 
Way  down  in  Alabam. 
Oh,  aint  I  glad,  &c. 


288  ETHIOPIAN  SONGS. 


WAIT  FOR  THE  WAGON. 

Will  you  come  with  me  my  Phillis,  dear,  to  yon  blue  moun- 
tain free, 
Where  the  blossoms  smell  the  sweetest,  come  rove  along  with 

me  ? 
It's  ev'ry  Sunday  morning,  when  I  am  by  your  side, 
We'll  jump  into  the  wagon,  and  all  take  a  ride. 
Chorus. — Wait  for  the  wagon, 
Wait  for  the  wagon, 
Wait  for  the  wagon, 

And  we'll  all  take  a  ride. 

Where  the  river  runs  like  silver,  and  the  birds  they  sing  so 

sweet, 
I  have  a  cabin,  Phillis,  and  something  good  to  eat. 
Come  listen  to  my  story,  it  will  relieve  my  heart, 
So  jump  into  the  wagon,  and  off  we  will  start. 
Wait  for  the  wagon,  &c. 

Do  you  believe,  my  Phillis,  dear,  old    Mike  with  all   his 

wealth, 
Can  make  you  half  so  happy,  as  I  with  youth  and  health  ? 
We'll  have  a  little  farm,  a  horse,  a  pig,  and  cow, 
And  you  will  mind  the  dairy,  while  I  do  guide  the  plough. 
Wait  for  the  wagon,  &c. 

Your  lips  are  red  as  poppies,  your  hair  so  slick  and  neat, 
All  braided  up  with  dahlias,  and  hollyhocks  so  sweet. 
Tt's  ev'ry  Sunday  morning,  when  I  am  by  your  side, 
vVe'll  jump  into  the  wagon,  and  all  take  a  ride. 
Wait  for  the  wagon,  &c. 

Together  on  life's  journey,  we'll  travel  till  we  stop, 
And  if  we  have  no  trouble,  we'll  reach  the  happy  top. 
Then  come  with  me,  sweet  Phillis,  my  dear,  my  lovely  bride, 
We'll  jump  into  the  wagon,  and  all  take  a  ride. 
Wait  for  the  wagon,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  289 

DAN  TUCKER,  IN*  FIVE  DIALECTS. 

Bones. — 

Young  Dan  Tucker  came  to  this  Metropolis, 
He  got  a  little  tight,  an'  quite  obstropulous  j 
De  Police  caught  him  by  de  shin, 
His  shin  slipt  off,  an'  he  cut  with  a  grin. 
(Singing.') — Get  out  de  way,  old  Dan  Tucker, 
Get  out  de  way,  old  Dan  Tucker, 
Get  out  de  way,  old  Dan  Tucker, 
You're  too  late  to  come  to  supper. 

Pompey.  — 

Young  Daniel  Tucker  came  to  Manhattan, 
In  a  shanghai  shawl,  an'  a  cane  of  rattan  ; 
His  shirt  collar  sawM  his  ears  in  two, 
And  he  looked  like  a  black  sheep's  head  in  a  stew 
Get  out  de  way,  &c. 

Dutch. — 

Mynheer  Yon  Tucker,  shuste  come  apout, 
For  to  sell  some  cheese  uude  sour  krout; 
He  trank  so  much  ob  de  schnapps  und  lager  peer, 
Dat  he  schlipt  all  apout  and  hesh  no  more  here. 
Kit  off  de  vay  Mynheer  Von  Tucker. 

French. — 

Monsieur  Dan  Tuckare  came  dowu  haire, 
To  eat  some  soup  an'  ze  pomme  de  terre  ; 
Ze  soup  vas  so  hot  dat  it  freeze  his  mouse, 
And  he  kicked  ze  roof  from  ze  floor  of  ze  house. 
Git  out  ze  vay,  Monsieur  Tuckare. 

Irish. — 

Misther  Daniel  Tuckerr  came  to  York, 
To  ate  roasted  pratees  boiled  on  a  fork ; 
He  swallered  the  fork  and  a  pratee  too, 
And  och !  bothern,  but  it  made  him  cry  hubbaboc. 

Get  out  de  way,  #c, 
19 


290  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 

OH  SUSANNA. 

I  COME  from  Alabama  with  my  banjo  on  my  knee, 

Ise  gwine  to  Lousiana  dar  my  true  love  for  to  see. 

It  rain'd  all  night  de  day  I  left,  the  weather  it  was  dry, 

It  snowed  so  hard  I  froze  to  death,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry. 

Chorus. — 

Oh,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry  for  me, 

Ise  come  from  Alabama,  wid  my  banjo  on  my  knee. 

Oh,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry  for  me, 

For  Ise  come  from  Alabama,  with  the  banjo  on  my  knee. 

I  jump'd  aboard  de  telegraph,  and  trabelled  down  de  ribber, 
De  'lectric  fluid  magnified,  and  killed  five  hundred  nigga. 
De  bulgine  bust,  de  horse  run  off,  I  really  thought  to  die, 
I  shut  my  eyes  to  hold  my  breath,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry. 
Oh,  Susanna,  &c. 

I  had  a  dream  de  oder  night,  when  ebery  ting  was  still, 
I  thought  I  saw  Susanna,  dear,  a  coming  down  de  hill. 
De  buckwheat  cake  was  in  her  mouf,  de  tear  was  in  her  eye, 
Says  I,  "  I'm  comin'  from  de  Souf,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry." 
Oh,  Susanna,  &c. 

I'll  soon  be  down  in  New  Orleans,  and  den  I'll  run  around, 
And  if  I  see  Susanna,  I'll  fall  upon  de  ground. 
But  if  I  do  not  see  her,  this  darkey  '11  surely  die, 
And  when  I'm  dead  and  buried,  Susanna,  don't  you  cry. 
Oh,  Susanna,  &c. 

ROSA  LEE. 

When  I  lib'd  in  Tennessee, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
I  went  courtin'  Rosa  Lee, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Eyes  as  dark  as  winter  night, 
Lips  as  red  as  berry  bright, 
When  first  I  did  her  wooing  go, 
She  said.  "  Now  don't  be  foolish,  Joe!" 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Courtin'  down  in  Tennessee, 

U  li  a  ii  o  la  e, 
Beneath  the  wild  Banana  tree. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  291 

I  said  jou  lubly  gal,  dat's  plain, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Breff  as  sweet  as  sugar  cane, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Feet  so  large  and  comely  too 
Alight  make  a  cradle  of  each  shoe, 
Rosa  take  me  for  your  beau, 
She  said,  "  Now  don't  be  foolish,  Joe  I" 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Courtin'  down  in  Tennessee,  &c. 


My  story  is  yet  to  be  told, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Rosa  catch'd  a-  shocking  cold, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Send  for  doctor,  fetch  de  nurse, 
Doctor  came,  but  made  her  worse, 
I  tried  to  make  her  laugh,  but  no, 
She  said,  "  Now  don't  be  foolish,  Joe V 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Courtin'  down  in  Tennessee,  Sec. 

Dey  sib  her  up,  no  power  could  save, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
She  ax  me  follow  to  her  grave, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
I  take  her  hand,  'twas  cold  as  death. 
So  cold  I  hardly  draw  my  breff, 
She  saw  my  tears  in  sorrow  flow, 
And  said,  "  Farewell,  my  dearest  Joel" 

D  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Rosa  sleeps  in  Tennessee, 

U  li  a  li  o  la  e, 
Beneath  the  wild  Banana  tree. 


292  ETHIOPIAN    SONGS. 

SINGING  DARKIES  ON  THE  OHIO. 

A  POPULAR  WESTERN  CHANT. 

Solo. —       Come,  darkies,  listen  to  my  story, 

Ob  a  nigger  gay  and  young, 
Well  known  to  all  for  fame  and  glory — 

Throughout  de  land  it  has  been  sung. 
As  he  passed  through  town  and  village, 

Each  little  darkie  sang  with  joy, 
"  You're  too  late  to  come  to  supper, 

Old  Dan  Tucker,"  he  would  cry. 
"  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! 

Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  Tra  la  la  la  la  !" 
Sang  dis  little  darkey  on  de  Ohio — 
Sang  dis  little  darkey  on  de  Ohio ! 
Chorus. —  Oh,  what  a  beau  !  what  a  beau  !  what  a  beau  ! 

Was  dis  young  nigger  ob  de  Ohio ! 
Oh,  what  a  beau  !  what  a  beau !  what  a  beau ! 

Was  dis  singing  nigger  ob  de  Ohio ! 

( Change  melody,  and  sing  the  Boatman  Dance,  as  follows :) 

The  boatman  he's  a  lucky  man — 
Dar's  none  can  do  as  de  boatman  can  : 
I  neber  see'd  a  pretty  gal  in  all  my  life, 
But  what  she  was  some  boatman's  wife. 


Chorus. —  Dance,  de  Boatman  Dance  ! 

Oh,  dance,  de  Boatman  Dance  ! 

We'll  dance  all  night  till  broad  day  light, 

An'  go  home  with  the  gals  in  the  morning. 

When  you  go  to  de  boatman's  ball, 
Dance  wid  my  wife,  or  don't  dance  at  all : 
Sky-blue  jacket,  an'  a  tarpolin'  hat — 
Look  out,  boys,  for  de  nine-tail  cat ! 
Dance,  de  Boatman  Dance,  &c. 

I  went  to  de  hen  house  on  my  knees, 
Dar  I  heard  a  chicken  sneeze, 
He  sneeze  so  hard  wid  de  chicken  cough, 
Dat  he  sneeze  his  head  an'  tail  right  off. 
Dance,  de  Boatman  Dance,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS.  29R 


ROSA  MAY. 

I  remember  well,  sweet  Rosa, 

Though  'tis  many  years  ago, 
When  de  harbest  moon  was  shinin', 

And  we  stood  beneaf  its  glow; 
When  I  felt  your  hand's  soft  pressure 

And  I  heard  you  sweetly  say, 
"  Forget  me  not  in  absence — 

Tink  sometimes  ob  Rosa  May." 

Oder  eyes  hab  looked  upon  me, 

Oder  songs  hab  filled  my  ear; 
But  dey  lacked  the  simple  freshness 

Ob  de  ones  I  used  to  hear. 
My  heart  beats  not  as  lightly, 

And  my  hair  is  tinged  with  gray, 
Yet  I  hear  no  song  to  charm  me 

Like  yours,  sweet  Rosa  May. 

T  am  older,  and  some  sorrows 

May  have  chilled  me,  but  I  feel 
Your  gentle  spirit's  presence, 

And  all  it  would  reveal. 
De  world  seems  still  as  beautiful, 

As  volatile  and  gay ; 
But  dar  are  no  such  days  as  those 

Of  old  dear  Rosa  May  ! 

YALLER  BUSHA  BELLE. 

Published  by  permission  of  Firth,  Pond  &  Co.,  N.  Y. 

As  I  walked  out  one  moonlight, 

I  met  a  fair  maid — her  eyes  shone  bright; 

Her  face  was  so  black,  you  couldn't  see  it  well ; 

And  she  was  called  de  Yaller  Busha  Belle. 

Says  I,  "  Young  lady,  may  I  walk  wid  ye  V 

What  do  ye  tink  was  the  answer  she  gib  me  ? 

She  says — 

"  Go  away,  black  man,  don't  you  come  a'nigh  me ! 

Burn  you  wid  a  chunk  !  if  I  don't,  blue  dye  me  I" 

Radink-a-day,  Ra,  di,  ink  a  day. 


294  ETHIOPIAN  SONGS. 

Nigger  seed  her  eat  a  pumpkin  all  the  day, 
Dat  she  should  be  too  dignified,  I  didn't  care  to  see, 
'Case  I'm  de  hansom  nigger  from  de  elbow  to  de  knee. 
I  never  see  a  yaller  gal  I  could  like  so  well, 
So  I  splash  my  'fections  on  you,  my 
Yaller  Busha  Belle. 

So  cum,  Miss  Dinah,  may  I  walk  wid  ye  ? 
Still  de  same  answer  de  lady  she  gib  me. 

Spoken — She  says  to  me,  in  'zackly  de  same  tone  of  voice 
as  before,  only  different, 

"  Go  away,  black  man,"  &c. 

We  didn't  walk  much  furder,  'case  down  de  rain  fell, 

So  in  a  minute  I  put  up  my  cotton  umberell. 

"  Miss  Dinah,  now  I  axes  you  to  lean  upon  dis  arm, 

An'  I  pledge  my  solemn  appetite,  I  don't  mean  you  no  harm; 

So  cum,  young  lady,  may  I  walk  wid  ye?" 

Dis  time,  a  different  answer  she  gib  me. 

Spoken — You  see,  de  rain  was  coming  down  tolerably  slick, 
and  she  says, 

"  Come  away,  black  man,  I'll  go  away  wid  you  now !" 
We  walked  along  togeder ;  I  don't  know  what  I  said, 
But  de  subject  ob  de  matrimony  cum  into  my  head. 
All  dat  passed  between,  I'm  not  a  going  to  tell, 
But  de  next  day  I  got  married  to  my 

Yaller  Busha  Belle. 
Went  to  a  nigger  parson  on  purpose  to  be  wed ; 
When  he  ask'd  de  lady's  name,  what  do  you  tink  she  said  ? 
"  Go  away,  black  man  !"  &c. 

About  twelve  months  after  dat,  I  t'ought  to  go  wild, 
When  my  yaller  gal  she  gabe  to  me  a  little  male  child, 
He  was  black  as  any  crow,  perhaps  a  trifle  bigger ; 
I  'clare,  I  neber  saw  sich  a  'ansum  little  nigger  ! 
But  my  Yaller  Busha  Belle — my  young  and  lubly  bride — 
She  didn't  live  much  longer,  cause — de  next  day  she  died  T 
Spoken — She  says  to  me,  in  a  werry  lemon choly  voice — 
"  Good  bye,  black  man,  I'm  going  away  from  you,  now  ! 
Mind  the  piccaninny,  if  you  lub  me  true,  now  !" 
Ra,  di,  ink  a  day,  Ra,  di,  ink  a  day  ! 
I  'clare,  it  nearly  broke  my  heart  to  put  her  in  de  clay ! 


ETHIOPIAN    BONGS.  TO5 

THE  MERRY  SLEIGH  BELLS. 

FROM    THE  POSTHEELONO   OF   LONG   JAWBONE. 

Jingle,  jingle,  clar  de  way, 

'Tis  de  merry,  merry  sleigh — 

Joyfully  we  glide  along, 

Only  listen  to  our  song. 

Ober  de  bridge,  down  by  the  mill, 

Den  upset  upon  de  hill, 

Set  'em  up,  de  sleigh  bells  ring,        ■ 

While  we  darkies  laugh  an'  sing. 
Chorus  ci7}d  Repeat  : 

Jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  clar  de  way, 

'Tis  de  merry,  merry,  merry,  merry,  merry  sleigh. 
Symphony.      Chorus — 

Oh,  shall  we  go  a  sleighing,  a  sleighing,  a  sleighing? 

De  white  horse  shall  pull  us  o'er  de  snow-covered  plain: 

On  good  whiskey  punch,  cakes  an'  sassengers  regaling, 

Oh,  den  we  will  slope  to  our  homes  back  again. 

Solo— 

De  trees  ob  de  forest,  sleigh-runners  shall  lend  us, 

Wid  an  acorn  cap,  an'  an  oak  bark  shell, 
Wid  coon  skins  to  warm  us,  an'  bells  to  attend  us, 

Oh,  merrily  we  glide  to  de  sound  ob  de  bell. 
Jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  clar,  &o. 

Jingle,  jingle,  on  we  go, 

Capes  an'  bonnets  in  a  row, 

De  ole  whip  snaps,  de  gals  all  funny, 

Hurry  up  dat  pcaeb  an'  honey. 

See  de  ole  horse  how  he  blows 

Like  a  steam  pipe  from  his  nose, 

An'  de  boys  dar  snow  balls  fling, 

As  de  merry  sleigb  bulls  ring. 

Jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  clar;  &c. 

S.  S.  Steele. 


296  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS 


CAMP  TOWN  RACES, 

OR  GWINE  TO  RUN  ALL  NIGHT. 

Camptown  ladies,  sing  dis  song, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
Camptown  race-track  five  miles  long, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Go  down  dar  wid  my  hat  caved  in, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
Come  back  home  wid  pocket  full  of  tin, 
Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Chorus — Gwine  to  run  all  night, 
Gwine  to  run  all  day, 
I'll  bet  my  money  on  de  bob-tail  hoss, 
Somebody  bet  on  de  bay. 

Woolley  Moon  came  on  de  track, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
Bob,  he  fling  him  ober  his  back, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Runnin'  along  like  a  shootin'  star$ 

Du  da,  du  da, 
Runnin'  a  race  wid  de  rail-road  car, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Gwine  to  run  all  night,  &c. 

De  bob-tail  hoss  he  can't  be  beat, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
Runnin'  around  in  a  two  mile  heat, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 
I  win  my  money  on  the  bob-tail  nag, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
An*  carry  it  home  in  de  ole  tow  bag, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Gwine  to  run  all  night,  &c. 

Dar's  fourteen  horses  in  dis  race, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
I'm  snug  in  saddle,  an'  got  good  brace, 

Du  da,  du  da  da. 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS.  297 

De  sorrel  horse  he's  got  a  cough, 

Du  da,  du  da. 
An7  his  rider's  drunk  in  the  ole  hay-loft, 
Du  da,  du  da  da. 
Gwine  to  run  all  night, 
We're  gwine  to  run  all  day, 
I  bet  my  money,  &c. 

S.  C.  Foster. 

NELLY  WAS  A  LADY. 

Composed  and  arranged  by  Stephen  C.  Foster.     Music  published  by 
Firth,  Pond  A  Co.,  No.  1  Franklin  Square,  N.  Y. 

Down  on  de  Mississippi  floating, 
Long  time  I  trabble  on  de  way, 
All  night  de  cotton  wood  a  toting, 
Sing  for  my  true  lub  all  de  day. 
Chorus  and  Repeat : — Nelly  was  a  lady, 

Last  night  she  died, 
Toll  de  bell  for  lubly  Nell, 
My  dark  Virginny  bride. 
Now  I'm  unhappy  and  I'm  weeping, 

Can't  tote  de  cotton  wood  no  more; 
Last  night  while  Nelly  was  a  sleeping, 
Death  came  a  knocking  at  de  door. 
Nelly  was  a  lady,  &c. 
When  I  saw  my  Nelly  in  de  morning, 

Smile  till  she  opened  up  her  eyes, 
Seem'd  like  de  light  ob  day  a  dawning, 
Jist  'fore  de  sun  begin  to  rise. 
Nelly  was  a  lady,  &c. 

Close  by  de  margin  ob  de  water, 

Whar  de  lone  weeping  willow  grows, 
Dar  lib'd  Virginny's  lubly  daughter, 

Dar  she  in  death  may  find  repose. 
Nelly  was  a  lady,  &c. 
Down  in  de  meadow  'mong  de  clober, 

Walk  wid  my  Nelly  by  my  side ; 
Now  all  dem  happy  days  am  ober, 

Farewell  my  dark  Virginny  bride. 
Nelly  was  a  lady,  &c. 


298   *  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 

KISS  ME  QUICK  AND  GO. 

The  other  night  while  I  was  sparking 

Sweet  Turlina  Spray, 
The  more  we  whispered  our  love  talking, 

The  more  we  had  to  say  j 
The  old  folks  and  the  little  folks 

"We  thought  were  fast  in  bed, — 
We  heard  a  footstep  on  the  stairs, 
And  what  d'ye  think  she  said  ? 
Clwrus — Oh  !  kiss  me  quick  and  go,  my  honey, 
Kiss  me  quick  and  go  ! 
To  cheat  surprise  and  prying  eyes, 
Why  kiss  me  quick  and  go! 

Soon  after  that  I  gave  my  love 

A  moonlight  promenade, 
At  last  we  fetched  up  to  the  door, 

Just  where  the  old  folks  stayed; 
The  clock  struck  twelve,  her  heart  struck  two  (too), 

And  peeping  over  head 
We  saw  a  night-cap  raise  the  blind, 

And  what  d'ye  think  she  said? 

Oh !  kiss  me  quick  and  go,  my  honey,  &c. 

One  Sunday  night  we  sat  together, 

Sighing  side  by  side, 
Just  like  two  wilted  leaves  of  cabbage 

In  the  sunshine  fried  ; 
My  heart  with  love  was  nigh  to  split 

To  ask  her  for  to  wed, 
Said  I :  Shall  I  go  for  the  parson  ? 

And  what  d'ye  think  she  said  ? 

Oh  !  kiss  me  quick  and  go,  my  honey,  &c. 

GUM  TREE  CANOE. 

On  Tombigbee  river,  so  bright  I  was  born, 
In  a  hut  made  ob  husks  ob  de  tall  yellow  corn, 
An'  dare  I  fust  meet  wid  my  Jula  so  true, 
An'  I  row'd  her  about,  in  my  Gum  Tree  Canoe. 
Singing  row  away  row,  o'er  the  waters  so  blue, 
Like  a  feather  we'll  float,  in  my  Gum  Tree  Canoe. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  299 

All  de  day  in  de  field  de  soft  cotton  I  hoe, 
I  think  of  my  Jula  an'  sing  as  1  go, 
Oh,  I  catch  her  a  bird,  wid  a  wing  ob  true  blue, 
And  at  night  sail  her  round  in  my  Gum  Tree  Canoe. 
Singing  row  away,  &c. 

Wid  my  hand  on  de  banjo  and  toe  on  de  oar, 
I  sing  to  de  sound  ob  de  river's  soft  roar; 
"While  de  stars  dey  look  down  at  my  Jula  so  true, 
An'  dance  in  her  eye  in  my  Gum  Tree  Canoe. 
Singing  row  away,  &c. 

But  one  night  de  stream  bore  us  so  far  away, 
Dat  we  couldn't  cum  back,  so  we  thought  we'd  better  stay; 
Oh,  we  spied  a  tall  ship  wid  a  flag  ob  true  blue, 
And  it  took  us  in  tow  wid  my  Gum  Tree  Canoe. 
Singing  row  away,  &c. 

WITCHING  DINAH  CROW. 

Now,  darkies,  I  will  tell  you 

Ob  a  most  unlucky  fate, 
Dat  happen'd  to  a  color'd  gal 

From  ole  Kentucky  State  : 
De  subject  ob  my  story 

Is  about  one  Dinah  Crow, 
Who  was  drown'd,  and  den  found  dead, 

In  de  ribber  O-hi-o  ! 
Oh,  witching  Dinah  Crow  ! 
Oh,  witching  Dinah  Crow  ! 
Who  was  drown'd,  and  den  found  dead, 
In  de  ribber  O-hi-o  ! 

On  a  berv  cloudy  morning, 

When  de  wind  war  radder  high, 
Oli,  Bformy  war  de  wedder, 

And  rainy  war  de  sky ! 
She  c:ot  aboard  de  horse  boat, 

To  cross  de  O-hi-o, 
But  fell  into  the  ribber ! — 

Poor,  unlucky  Dinah  Crow ! 
Oh,  witching  Dinah  Crow,  &c. 


800  ETHIOPIAN    SONGS. 

De  darkies  all  did  mourn  her  loss — 

"  They'd  neber  see  her  more  I" 
They  got  a  cotton  handkerchief 

Dat  floated  on  de  shore  ! 
They  held  an  inquest  on  the  body, 

About  the  poor  gal's  death  : 
The  verdict  of  the  jury  war, 

She  drown'd — for  want  of  breath  ! 
Oh,  witching  Dinah  Crow,  &c. 

A  FEW  DAYS. 

Oh  !  the  world  is  coming  to  an  end  : 

Chorus — Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
I'll  kick  my  shins,  my  jacket  rend ; 

I  am  going  home. 
I'm  gwan  to  run  clear  out  of  sight ; 

Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
And  leave  these  ugly  diggins  quite. 

I  am  going  home. 
Chorus — 
For  I've  a  home  out  yonder  :  few  days  !  few  days  ! 
For  I've  a  home  out  yonder ;  I  am  going  home. 
For  I  can't  stay  in  the  wilderness;  few  days  !  few  days  ! 
For  I  can't  stay  in  the  wilderness ;  I  am  going  home. 
Repeat  Chorus  to  quick  time. 

Oh  !  every  thing  is  made  by  steam; 

Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
Leather  taffy,  chalk  ice  cream  ; 

I  am  going  home. 
The  boys  wear  beards,  the  women  too ; 

Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
Tho'  all  things  change  there's  noflin  new. 

I  am  going  home. 

The  Shanghai  grows  so  very  tall, 

Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
You  cannot  hear  him  crow  at  all. 

I  am  going  home. 
I'll  sing  my  parting  song  once  more, 

Few  days  !  Few  days  ! 
And  then  I'll  pass  to  Jersey  shore. 

I  am  going  home. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  301 

DEAREST  MAE. 

Oh,  niggers,  come  and  listen,  a  story  I'll  relate, 

It  happened  in  a  valley  in  de  ole  Carolina  state, 

It  was  down  in  de  meadow  I  used  to  make  de  hay, 

I  always  work  de  harder  when  I  tink  on  you,  dear  Mae. 

Chorus. — Oh,  dearest  Mae,  you're  lovelier  dan  de  day, 

Your  eyes  so  bright  dey  shine  at  night, 

When  de  moon  urn  gone  away. 

My  massa  gib  me  holiday,  I  wish  he'd  gib  me  more, 
I  thank'd  him  very  kindly  as  I  shoved  my  boat  from  shore, 
And  down  de  ribber  paddled,  wid  a  heart  so  light  and  free, 
To  de  cottage  ob  my  lovely  Mae,  I  longed  so  much  to  see. 
Oh,  dearest  Mae,  &c. 

On  de  bank  ob  de  ribber  where  de  trees  dey  hang  so  low, 
"Where  de  coon  among  de  branches  play,  and  de  mink  he  keeps 

below, 
Oh,  dar  is  de  spot,  and  Mae  she  looks  so  sweet, 
Her  eyes  dey  sparkle  like  de  stars,  and  her  lips  am  red  as  beet. 
Oh,  dearest  Mae,  &c. 

Beneath  de  shady  oak  tree,  I've  sot  for  many  hours, 

As  happy  as  de  buzzard  bird  dat  sports  among  de  flowers ; 

But  dearest  Mae,  I  left  her,  and  she  cried  when  both  we 

parted, 
I  gib  her  a  long  and  farewell  kiss,  and  back  to  massa  started. 
Oh,  dearest  Mae,  &c. 

MARY  BLANE. 

Once  on  a  time  I  lov'd  a  gal, 

I'll  tell  you  all  her  name ; 
She  came  from  Old  Virginia, 

And  dey  called  her  Mary  Blane. 
We  lived  happy  together ; 

She  never  caused  me  pain ; 
But  on  one  dark  and  stormy  night, 
I  lost  my  Mary  Blane. 
CJwrus. — Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary  Blane, 

One  faithful  heart  still  beats  for  you. 
Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary  Blane, 
If  we  ne'er  meet  a  grain. 


a  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 

I  took  my  gun — de  night  was  dark, 

My  dog  went  with  me  too; 
I  saw  a  coon,  and  heard  a  bark  ! 

De  dog  lie  swiftly  flew. 
I  thought  he  run  down  by  dat  spot, 

And  kindled  quick  a  flame. 
Pine  not  to  hear  of  my  sad  lot; 
I  shot  poor  Mary  Blane. 
Chorus. — Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary' Blane, 

One  faithful  heart  still  beats  for  you. 
Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary  Blane, 
If  we  ne'er  meet  a^ain. 


I  toted  her  down  by  de  stream, 

To  bathe  de  wound  I'd  made. 
De  dog's  death  howl,  it  was  de  theme; 

We  both  knelt  down  ami  pray'd. 
But  through  the  dark  daylight  there  came — 

All  hope  for  her  was  vain. 
Her  last  low  sigh  was  Jem,  farewell ; 
Good-bye,  poor  Mary  Blane. 
Chorus. — Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary  Blane, 

One  faithful  heart  still  beats  for  you. 
Farewell,  farewell,  poor  Mary  Blane, 
If  we  ne'er  meet  again. 


BELLE  OF  BALTIMORE. 

I've  been  to  Carolina, 

I've  been  to  Tennessee, 
I've  trabeiled  Mississippi, 
For  massa  set  me  free. 
I've  kissed  the  lovely  Creole, 

On  Louisiana  shore, 
But  I  never  found  a  gal  to  match, 
De  blooming  Belle  of  Baltimore. 
Chorus. — Oh,  boys,  Belle's  a  beauty, 

Eyes  so  bright  and  cheeks  so  sooty, 

No  gal  I  ever  seen  before, 

So  sweet  as  Belle  of  Baltimore. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  303 

My  Belle  is  tall  and  slender, 

And  sings  so  very  clear, 
You'd  think  she  was  an  owlingale, 

If  once  her  voice  you'd  hear. 
I  walked  down  to  her  cabin, 

And  1  nipped  agin  de  door; 
I  want  to  gib  my  dogatype 

To  my  sweet  Belle  of  Baltimore. 
Oh,  boys,  Belle's  a  beauty,  &o. 

I  found  her  by  the  riber. 

My  errant  1  did  tell, 
Says  she,  You  gay  deceiber, 

Your  tricks  1  know  too  well, 
I  seen  you  kiss  another  gal, 

De  werry  night  before — 
"Wid  dat  she  turnedSkpon  her  heel, 

And  off  went  Belle"  of  Baltimore. 
Oh,  boys,  Belle's  a  beauty,  &c. 

I  wrote  my  lub  a  letter, 

And  scented  it  so  sweet, 
De  musk,  de  clobes,  de  peppermint, 

Stuck  out  about  a  feet. 
But  all  my  trouble  was  no  use, 

I  neber  seen  her  more — 
For  I  squashed  de  tender  'fections  ob 

My  blooming  Belle  of  Baltimore. 
Oh,  boys,  Belle's  a  beauty,  ecc. 

S.  C.  Foster. 

NANCY  TILL. 

As  sung  By  E.  Horn. 

Down  in  de  cane  break,  close  by  de  mill, 
Dar  libed  a  gal,  and  her  name  was  Nancy  Till ; 
She  knowed  dat  I  lubed  her — she  knowed  it  bery  long; 
I'm  gwan  to  serenade  her,  and  I'll  sing  dis  song : — 
Chorus. — Come,  love,  come  ! — de  boat  lies  low; 

She  lies  high  and  dry  on  de  Ohio  ! 

Come,  love,  come  ! — won't  you  go  along  wid  me? 

I'll  take  you  down  to  Tennessee  ! 


304  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 

Open  de  window,  love — oh,  do  ! 
And  listen  to  de  music  Ise  playing  for  you ; 
De  whispering  ob  love,  so  soft  and  so  low, 
Harmonize  my  voice  wid  de  old  banjo. 
Come,  love,  &c. 

Softly  de  casement  began  for  to  rise ; 
De  stars  am  a-shining  above  in  de  skies ; 
De  moon  am  declining  behind  yonder  hill, 
Reflecting  its  rays  on  you,  my  Nancy  Till. 
Come,  love,  &c. 

Farewell,  love  !  I  must  now  away  ; 
I've  a  long  way  to  trabel  before  de  brake  of  day; 
But  de  next  time  I  come,  be  ready  for  to  go 
A-sailing  on  de  banks  ob  de  Ohio  ! 
Come,  love,  &c. 

G.  HOLMAN. 

GAL  FROM  DE  SOUTH. 

Music  published  by  C.  Holt,  Jr.,  260  Broadway,  N.  Y, 

Ole  massa  bought  a  colored  gal, 

He  bought  her  at  de  South ; 
Her  hair  it  curled  so  bery  tight, 
She  could  not  shut  her  mouth. 
Her  eyes  dey  were  so  bery  small, 

They  both  ran  into  one; 
And  when  a  fly  light  in  her  eye, 

Like  a  June  bug  in  the  sun. 
Chorus. — Yah  yah  yah,  yah  yah  yah, 
De  gal  from  de  South, 
Her  hair  it  curled  so  bery  tight, 
She  could  not  shut  her  mouth 

Her  nose  it  was  so  bery  long, 

It  turned  up  like  a  squash ; 
And  when  she  got  her  dander  up, 

She  made  me  laugh,  by  gosh. 
Old  massa  had  no  hooks  or  nails, 

Or  nothin'  else  like  that; 
So  on  this  darkey's  nose,  he  used 

To  hang  his  coat  and  hat. 
Yah  yah  yah,  &c. 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS.  305 

One  morning  massa  goin'  away, 

He  went  to  get  his  coat ; 
But  neither  hat  or  coat  was  there, 

For  she  had  swallowed  both. 
He  took  her  to  a  tailor  shop, 

To  have  her  mouth  made  small ; 
The  lady  took  in  one  long  breath, 

And  swallowed  tailor  and  all. 
Yah  yah  yah,  &c. 


AHOO!  AHOO! 

A   PLANTATION   DANCE. 
Music  published  by  C.  Holt,  Jr.,  260  Broadway,  N.  T. 

Ise  come  from  Tennessee  all  over, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
Whar  de  niggars  live  in  clover, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 

While  we  watch  de  feedin'  cattle, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
We  make  de  'lodious  sheep-bone  rattle, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 

Jim  Carron  kotch  a  turkey-buzzard, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
Black  Betsey  charm  dis  nigger's  gizzard, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 

Her  figure  set  dis  heart  a  trottin', 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
Her  shape  is  like  a  bale  o'  cotton. 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 

Crow  come  to  New  Orleans  to  live,  sir, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
He  broke  his  wing  'gainst  de  yaller  fever, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
20 


306  ETHIOPIAN    SONOS. 

New  York's  got  de  Croaken  water, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
And  now  dey'U  all  de  fire  slaughter, 

Ahoo,  ahoo.  oo,  oo  ! 

Old  fat  Sam  died  ob  decline, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 
And  dey  dried  him  for  a  'bacco  sign, 

Ahoo,  ahoo,  oo,  oo  ! 

S.  S.  Steele. 


NEW  MEDLEY. 

Air. — "  Let'' s  be  Gay." 

Chorus. — Let's  be  gay,  and  banish  sorrow, 
All  our  work  is  done  to-day ; 
Laugh  and  sing  until  to-morrow 

Air. — "  Black  Smoke  am  Rising.** 

Oh,  de  black  smoke  am  rising,  and  de  wheels  goin'  round, 

Daddy  a  do  du  dadda, 
Dey're  blowing  off  steam,  I  know  it  by  de  sound, 

Daddy  a  do  du  da  do  de  da  do  daddy  ah  do  da  da  da, 
He  ah  ahu  ah,  he  ah  ahoo  ah,  he  ah  ahoo  ah. 
Chorus. — He  ah  ahu  ah,  he  ah  hoo  ah,  he  ah  hoo  ah, 
He  ah  ahu  ah,  he  ah  hoo  ah,  hoo, 
He  ah  hoo  ah,  he  ah  hoo  ah,  he  ah  hoo  ah. 
He  ah  hoo  ah,  he  ahoo  ah, 
He  ah  ahoo  ah,  hoo. 
Solo. — Look  out,  boys,  for 

Air. — "Jenny  with  the  Light-Broicn  Hair." 

I  dream  of  Jenny  with  the  light-brown  hair, 

Borne  like  a  vapor  on  the  summer  air; 

I  hear  her  tripping  where  the  wild  streams  play, 

Happy  as  the  daisies  that  bloom  on  her  way  \ 

Many  were  the  wild  notes  her  merry  voice  would  pour, 

Many  were  the  blackbirds  that 


ETHIOPIAN   SONCfS.  307 

Air. — "Kiss  Me  Quick." 

Chorus. — Kiss  me  quick  and  go,  my  honey, 

Kiss  me  quick  and  go; 
To  cheat  surprise  and  prying  eyes, 

Oh,  kiss  me  quick  and  go. 

The  other  night  as  I  was  sparking 

Sweet  Melinda  Pray, 
The  more  we  talked  of  our  love  at  parting — 

Air.— "Bell  Brandon." 

'Neath  the  trees  by  the  margin  of  the  woodland, 
Whose  spreading  leafy  boughs  sweep  the  ground, 

By  a  path  leading  thither  from  the  prairie, 
When  silence  hung  her  night  garb  around ; 

There  often  I  have  wandered  in  the  evening, 

When  the  summer  breeze  was  fragrant  on  the  sea, 

There  I  saw 

Air. — "Betsey  Gay." 

Betsey  Gay,  Betsey  Gay,  charming  Betsey  Gay, 
She  was  de  lubliest  yaller  gal 

Air. — "Bosalie,  the  Prairie  Flower." 

On  a  distant  prairie,  where  the  heather  wild, 
In  its  quiet  beauty,  lived  and  smiled, 
Stands  a  little  cottage,  and  the  creeping  vine 
Loved  around  its  porch  to  twine. 
In  that  peaceful  dwelling,  lived  a  lovely  child, 
With  her 

Air. — "Wait  for  the   Wagon." 

Chorus. — Oh,  wait  for  de  wagon,  wait  for  de  wagon, 
Wait  for  de  wagon,  an'  we'll  all  take  a  ride. 
Oh,  wait  for  de  wagon,  wait  for  de  wagon, 
Wait  for  de  wagon,  an'  we'll  all  take  a  ride. 


308  ETHIOPIAN    SONGS. 

EVER  BE  HAPPY. 

Tunc — Pirates''  Chorus. 
Published  by  Firth,  Pond,  &  Co.,  N.  Y 
Ever  be  happy,  darkies  so  gay ; 

Sing  for  de  white  folks,  sin£ — 
We've  all  assembled  here  to-night, 
An'  we'll  make  the  welkin  ring. 
Solo— 

Strike  de  banjo  an'  de  bones, 
Oh,  such  dulcimer  tones 

Were  nebber  heard  since  we  left  our  darkie  homes. 
Chorus — 

Ever  be  happy,  darkies  so  gay ; 
Sing  for  de  white  folks,  sing, 
Sing,  sing,  for  de  white  folks,  sing, 

Sing,  sing,  for  de  white  folks,  sing. 
Ever  be  happy,  black  as  we  are ; 
We've  hither  come  to-night — 
To  please  you  all  we'll  do  our  best, 
We'll  strive  wid  all  our  might. 
Solo— 

Long  may  we  live  to  hab  such  fun, 
As  we  do  when  our  day's  work  am  done. 
Chorus — 

Ever  be  happy,  darkies  so  gay  • 

Sing  for  de  white  folks,  sing — 
We've  all  assembled  here  to-night, 
To  make  de  welkin  ring. 

F.  Leslie. 

MY  OLD  KENTUCKY  HOME,  GOOD  NIGHT. 

Music  published  by  Firth,  Pond,  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 
The  sun  shines  bright  in  the  old  Kentucky  home, 

'Tis  summer,  the  darkies  are  gay, 
The  corn  top's  ripe,  and  the  meadows  in  the  bloom, 

While  the  birds  make  music  all  the  day. 
The  young  folks  roll  on  the  little  cabin  floor, 

All  merry,  all  happy  and  bright ; 
By-'n  by  hard  times  comes  a-knocking  at  the  door  • 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good  night ! 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS.  309 

Chorus — 

"Weep  no  more,  my  lady, 

Oh  !  weep  no  more  to-day, 
We  will  sins  one  song  for  the  old  Kentucky  home, 

For  my  old  Kentucky  home,  far  away. 

They  hunt  no  more  for  the  possum  and  the  coon, 

On  the  meadow,  the  hill,  and  the  shore; 
They  sing  no  more  by  the  glimmer  of  the  moon, 

On  the  beach  by  the  old  cabin  door. 
The  day  goes  by  like  a  shadow  o'er  the  heart, 

With  sorrow  where  all  was  delight — 
The  time  has  come  when  the  darkies  have  to  part, 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good  night ! 
Weep  no  more,  my  lady,  kc. 

The  head  must  bow  and  the  back  will  have  to  bend, 

Wherever  the  darkey  may  go; 
A  few  more  days,  and  the  trouble  all  will  end, 

In  the  field  where  the  sugar  canes  grow. 
A  few  more  days  for  to  tote  the  weary  load — 

No  matter  'twill  never  be  light; 
A  few  more  days  till  we  totter  on  the  road, 

Then  my  old  Kentucky  home,  good  night ! 
Weep  no  more,  my  lady,  &c. 

GOOD-BYE,  SALLY  DEAR! 

Music  published  by  Oliver  Ditson,  Boston. 

My  Sally  dear,  I'm  gwan  to  leave  you — 
Full  Chorus — Good-bye,  Sally  dear  ! 

Do  not  let  my  parting  grieve  you — 
Full  Chorus — Good-bye,  Sally  dear  ! 

For  since,  dear  Sally,  we  must  part, 

Do  not  let  it  break  your  heart; 

Although  I'm  going  far  away, 

I'll  return  anudder  day. 

Chorus — Den,  cheer  up,  my  Sally,  do  ! 

Though  I'm  far  off,  my  heart  is  true, 
And  I  must  bid  you  now  adieu — 
Good-bye,  Sally  dear ! 


310  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS 

To  de  cotton  fields  we  must  away — 

Good-bye,  Sally  dear ! 
Our  massa's  call  we  must  obey — 

Good-bye,  Sally  dear ! 
We  go  to  pick  de  corn  so  nice, 
And  gedder  in  de  crops  ob  rice, 
"VVhar  all  de  darkies  am  a-hoeing, 
And  de  cotton  pods  are  growing. 
Chorus — Den  cheer  up,  my  Sally  do  ! 

Though  I'm  far  off,  my  heart  is  true, 
And  I  must  bid  you  now  adieu — 
Good-bye,  Sally  dear ! 

I  lub  you  more  dan  all  my  life — 

Good-bye,  Sally  dear ! 
"When  I  return,  you'll  be  my  wife — 

Good-bye,  Sally  dear  ! 
Before  I  go  I'll  take  one  kiss — 
I  don't  tink  dat  will  be  amiss; 
You  are  my  charming  little  Sal, 
My  pretty  little  color'd  gal. 

Den,  cheer  up,  my  Sally  do !  &c. 

THE  YELLOW  EOSE  OF  TEXAS. 

Music  published  by  Firtb,  Pond  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  Y. 

There's  a  yellow  rose  in  Texas  that  I  am  going  to  see, 
No  other  darkey  knows  her,  no  darkey  only  me; 
She  cried  so  when  I  left  her,  it  like  to  broke  my  heart, 
And  if  I  ever  find  her,  we  never  more  will  part. 

Chorus — 

She's  the  sweetest  rose  of  color  this  darkey  ever  knew, 
Her  eyes  are  bright  as  diamonds,  they  sparkle  like  the  dew, 
You  may  talk  about  your  Dearest  Mae,  and  sing  of  Rosa  Lee, 
But  the  yellow  rose  of  Texas  beats  the  belles  of  Tennessee. 

Where  the  Bio  Grande  is  flowing,  and  the  starry  skies  are 

bright, 
She  walks  along  the  river  in  the  quiet  summer  night; 
She  thinks  if  I  remember,  when  we  parted  long  ago, 
I  promis'd  to  come  back  again,  and  not  to  leave  her  so. 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  311 

Oh  !  now  I'm  going  to  find  her,  for  my  heart  is  full  of  woe, 
And  we'll  sing  the  Bong  together,  that  we  sung  so  long  ago; 
We'll  play  fhe  banjo  gaily,  and  we'll  sing  the  songs  of  yore, 
And  the  yellow  rose  of  Texas  shall  be  mine  for  ever  more. 


A  NIGGER'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  WORLD. 

A  NEW  VERSION. 

I  COME  from  old  Virginny  on  a  bery  fine  day; 

De  riber  it  was  froze,  and  I  skated  all  de  way ; 

Wid  my  banjo  in  my  hand,  to  play  de  folks  a  tune, 

(What  de  niggers  use  to  dance  by  de  light  ob  de  moon.) 

Chorus — 

Walk  in — walk  in — walk  in,  I  say; 

Walk  into  de  parlor,  and  hear  de  banjo  play; 

Walk  into  de  parlor,  and  hear  de  banjo  ring, 

And  watch  de  nigger's  fingers  while  he  picks  upon  de  strings. 

De  world  was  made  in  six  days,  and  finish'd  on  the  sebenth; 
('Cording  to  de  contrak,  it  should  a  bin  de  'lebenth  ! 
But  de  carpenters  got  fatigued,  de  masons  couldn't  work, 
So  de  cheapest  way  to  do  it  was  to  fill  it  up  wid  dirt !) 

Adam  was  de  fast  man — Ebe  was  de  tudder; 
Cain  was  de  wicked  man,  'case  he  killed  his  brudder; 
Jonah  was  de  fisherman  dat  swallowed  down  de  shark ; 
Noah  was  de  last  man  dat  went  into  de  ark. 

Now  dey  got  rail  roads  all  ober  de  land ; 

Dey  shoot  through  do  mountains,  and  dey  cut  through  de  sand ; 
You  can  get  de  news  from  war  de  planets  was  a  fighting, 
By  a  little  piece  ob  wire  dat  am  greased  up  wid  de  lightning ! 
Walk  in — walk  in,  &c. 

Oh  !   Samson  was  a  strong  man,  his  strong  was  in  his  wool, 
Delilah  kotch  him  fast  asleep,  and  hooked  it  by  a  pull, 
Goliah  was  a  giant,  t;ill  as  an  oak  in  spring, 
Little  David  got  him  half  slewed,  and  slewed  him  with  a  sling. 
Walk  in — walk  in,  &c. 


312  ETHIOPIAN    SONGS. 


SUGAR  CANE  GREEN. 

PARODY  ON  THE  IVY  GREEN. 

Now  listen  awhile  to  dis  darkey  child ; 

I  was  born  on  de  Ohio  ribber; 
My  mother  could  cook,  could  bake,  and  could  boil, 

And  she  taught  me  to  be  a  good  libber. 
For  hoe-cake  and  gumbo,  she  had  not  her  match; 

And  for  hominy  no  one  could  touch  her; 
Ob  broders  and  sisters  I  had  quite  a  batch ; 

And  she  fell  in  love  wid  a  butcher ! 

Chorus — 

Den  I  used  to  creep  where  no  darkey  was  seen, 
To  suck  de  juice  ob  de  sugar  cane  green. 

My  fader-in-law  thought  well  ob  his  bride, 

But  he  hated  de  sight  ob  dis  nigger  ! 
So  he  wallop'd  me  well  wid  a  big  cowhide, 

'Case  he  said,  'twould  make  me  grow  bigger ! 
He  said,  I  was  fat — my  skin  fitted  tight — 

Like  a  barrel  ob  grease  was  my  figure ; 
And  all  de  day  long  he  would  strike  away  strong, 

On  de  carcase  of  dis  poor  nigger ! 

Den  I  used  to  creep  where  no  darkey  was  seen,  &c. 

I  grinn'd  and  I  bore  it  for  two  or  three  years; 

Tinks  I  to  myself,  "  Dis  won't  do ! 
On  some  of  dese  mighty  ole  darkies  I'll  rise, 

And,  golly  !  I'll  beat  'em  all  blue  !" 
So  I  catch  him  asleep,  one  night,  by  de  fire, 

As  blue  as  a  darkey  could  be, 
So  I  tied  and  lamm'd  him  to  my  heart's  desire; 

Den.  I  sloped — 'for  he'd  cotch'd  hold  ob  me ! 

And  since  dat  time,  I  neber  hab  been,  &c. 


• 


ETHIOPIAN   SONGS.  313 

ETHIOPIAN   MEDLEY. 

Arranged  by  L.  M.  Reese. 
Air. — "Lucy  Long." 

Fve  jist  come  out  before  you, 

To  sing  you  a  little  song — 
Dey  plays  it  on  de  music, 

And  calls  it 

Air.—"Boicery  Gate." 

Bowery  gals,  won't  you  come  out  to-night, 
Come  out  to-night,  come  out  to-night? 
Bowery  gals,  won't  you  come  out  to-night, 
And— 

Air. — "Uncle  Ned." 

Dar  was  an  old  nigger, 

And  his  name  was  Uncle  Ned, 
And  he  died  long  ago,  long  ago, 

He  had  no  wool  on 

Air. — "Camptoicn  Races." 

De  bob-tailed  nag, 
And  who's  dat  bettin'  on  de  bay  1 
I'se  gwine  to  run  all  night, 

Fse  gwine  to  run  all  day, 
If  somebody  will 

Air. — "Virginny  Shore." 

Carry  me  back  to  ole  Virginny, 

To  ole  Virginny  shore, 
Den  carry  me  back  to 

Air.— "Lucy  Xeal." 

My  poor  Lucy  Neal, 
Oh,  my  poor  Lucy  Neal, 
And  if  I  had  you  down 

Air. — "King  Crow." 

Fotch  on  de  hoe-cake, 

Go  way,  don't  boder  me, 
Fotch  on  dc  hoe-cake, 

I  tell  you  'taint  done. 
Fotch  on 


31-1  ETHIOPIAN    SONGS. 

Air.— ''Aunt  Sally." 

Sally,  Sally 

My  old  aunt  Sally,  Sally,  Sally, 
Ra  re  ri  ro  round  de  corner,  Sally, 

Air. — "Belle  of  Baltimore." 

Ho,  boys  !  Belle's  a  beauty, 
Eyes  so  bright,  cheeks  so  sooty, 
No  gal  I  eber  saw  before, 
So  sweet  as 

Air.— "Black  Shakers." 

Fi  hi  hi  ump  ti  deedle  deedle  dum, 

Fi  hi  hi  ump  ti  deedle  deedle  dum, 

Possum  up  a  gum  stump,  cooney  in  a  hollerum, 

Show  me  de  man  dat  stole  my  half  a  dollarum. 

Fi  hi  hi,  &c.  [Dances  off  stage,  a  la  Shaker.~\ 


OLD  BOB  RIDLEY. 

Music  published  by  Firth,  Pond,  &  Co.,  547  Broadway,  N.  T. 

Now  white  folks  Fll  sing  you  a  ditty, 
I'se  from  home,  but  dat's  no  pity, 
Oh !  to  praise  myself  it  am  a  shame, 
But  Robert  Ridley  is  my  name. 
Chorus.—  Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  ho, 

Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  ho, 

Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  oh  !  oh  ! !  oh  1 ! ! 

Robert  Ridley  ho. 

Oh !  white  folks,  I  have  cross'd  de  mountains, 
How  many  miles  I  didn't  count  'em, 
Oh!  I'se  left  de  folks  at  de  old  plantation, 
And  come  down  here  for  my  education. 
Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  ho,  &c. 

De  first  time  dat  I  ever  got  a  lickin', ' 
;Twas  down  at  de  forks  at  de  cotton  pickin', 
Oh !  it  made  me  dance,  it  made  me  tremble 
I  golly  it  made  my  eye-balls  jingle, 
Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  ho,  &c.  ;; 


ETHIOPIAN    SONGS.  315 

Oh !  dis  yar  city  am  a  mighty  fine  one, 
For  beauty  and  location  it  aint  behind  none, 
Oh !  de  ladies  all  look  so  sweet  and  uidley, 
Wonder  dey  don't  fall  in  love  wid  old  Bob  Ridley. 
Oh  !  Bob  Ridley  ho;  &o. 


THE   DAYS   WHEN   THIS   OLD   NIGGER   WAS 
YOUNG. 

Air. —  The  good  old  days  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

I'll  sing  you  a  song  that  never  has  been  sung, 
'Bout  de  good  ole  days  when  dis  nigger  was  young ; 
And  when  you  hears  it,  you'll  say  "  dat's  so," 
For  I  know  what  I  tells  you,  an'  tells  what  I  know. 
Chorus. — 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  what  queer  things  have  sprung, 
Since  de  safe  ole  times  when  dis  nigger  was  young. 

In  de  days  I  was  young,  niggers  wool  didn't  bang  high. 
Poultry  sold  cheap  and  chickens  wasn't  shanghi; 
Young  folks  went  to  meetin'  an'  didn't  go  to  musses, 
And  folks  went  into  hominy  instead  of  homnybuses. 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  &c. 

In  dem  ole  times,  why  a  church  wasn't  a  pay  house, 
An'  de  pulpit  didn't  wear  clothes  like  a  play-house; 
Den  de  folks  sung  together  by  de  sigh  of  dar  voices, 
An'  dey  didn't  pay  de  choir  for  makin'  all  de  noises. 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  &c. 

On  de  ole  turnpike  dar  was  no  railway  crashes, 
Den  de  liquor  still  didn't  make  the  brandy  smashes; 
Folks  didn't  get  frightened  at  too  many  news, 
Den  cobblers  didn't  burn  soles,  but  dey  mended  shoes. 
Singing,  Oh!  dear,  &c. 

Den  folks  went  to  bed  and  dey  got  wide  awake,  sir, 
Den  bread  was  cheap  for  each  house  had  a  baker; 
Den  big  fish  folks  didn't  dine  after  dark,  sir, 
An'  lovers,  slow  and  sure,  took  a  year  or  two  to  spark,  sir. 
Sinking,  Oh  !  dear,  &o. 


316  ETHIOPIAN   SONGS. 

We'd  no  fast  wagons  like  spiders  on  wheels,  sir, 
Nor  shanghai  coats  reaching  to  de  heels,  sir; 
We  had  no  quack  physic  to  make  folks  sicker, 
An'  every  t'oder  house  wasn't  a  place  for  "  to  liquor." 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  &c. 

Den  gals  wore  bonnets  their  faces  to  protect,  sir, 
An'  didn't  keep  'em  fast  to  de  back  of  de  neck,  sir  j 
Den  darkies  staid  at  home  'stead  of  fugitive  slaven, 
An'  mad  politicians  didn't  go  about  ravin'. 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  &c. 

Den  wenches  cooked  de  victuals  an'  kep'  in  dar  places, 
An'  niggers  didn't  wear  all  dar  wool  on  dar  faces ; 
We  swallowed  down  de  hoe-cake  hot  from  de  griddle, 
An'  we  lightened  our  labor  wid  de  banjo  and  fiddle. 
Singing,  Oh  !  dear,  &c. 


HOP  DE  DOODEN  DOO. 

Music  published  by  "Wiuner  &  Shuster,  Philadelphia. 

Susy  in  the  kitchen,  Hop  de  dooden  doo, 

Susy  in  the  kitchen,  Hop  de  dooden  doo; 

Susy  in  the  kitchen  shelling  out  the  peas, 

Master  in  the  parlor  tasting  of  the  cheese. 

What's  the  matter,  Susy,  what's  the  matter  my  dear, 

What's  the  matter,  Susy,  0  I'm  going  to  leave  you  now) 

Play  upon  the  fiddle,  come  play  upon  the  drum, 

Play  upon  the  banjo,  Susy  can't  you  come. 

The  big  dog  he  bow-wow,  Hop  de  dooden  doo, 

The  big  dog  he  bow-wow,  Hop  de  dooden  doo ; 

The  big  dog  he  bow-wow,  watching  at  the  gate, 

He  smell  the  meat  a  frying,  and  then  he  couldn't  wait. 

Then  what's  the  matter,  Susy,  what's  the  matter  my  dear, 

What's  the  matter,  Susy,  0  I'm  going  to  leave  you  now ; 

Come  play  upon  the  fiddle,  play  upon  the  drum, 

Play  upon  the  banjo,  Susy  can't  you  come. 


COMIC  SONGS.  317 

The  old  horse  he  kick  high,  Hop  de  dooden  doo, 
The  old  horse  he  kiok  high,  Hop  de  dooden  doo ; 
The  old  horse  he  kick  high,  standing  in  the  stable, 
Old  master  tried  to  ketch  him,  but  found  he  wasn't  able. 
Then  what's  the  matter,  Susy,  what's  the  matter  my  dear? 
What's  the  matter,  Susy  '(  0  I'm  going  to  leave  you  now  ; 
Come  play  upon  the  fiddle,  play  upon  the  drum, 
Play  upon  the  banjo,  Susy  can't  you  come. 

The  hen  flew  in  de  garden,  Hop  de  dooden  doo, 

The  hen  flew  in  de  garden,  Hop  de  dooden  doo ; 

The  hen  flew  in  de  garden,  Master  try  to  ketch  him, 

He  fell  against  the  lamp-post,  and  then  he  did  not  fetch  him. 

Then  what's  the  matter,  Susy,  what's  the  matter  my  dear  ? 

What's  the  matter,  Susy  ?  0  I'm  going  to  leave  you  now; 

Come  play  upon  the  fiddle,  play  upon  the  drum, 

Play  upon  the  banjo,  Susy  can't  you  come. 

V1LKINS  AND  HIS  DINAH. 

As  sung  by  W.  E.  Buxton,  Esq.,  with  unbounded  applause. 

It's  of  a  rich  merchant  I  am  going  for  to  tell, 
Who  had  for  a  daughter  an  unkimmin  fine  young  gal; 
Her  name  it  was  Dinah,  just  sixteen  years  old, 
With  a  very  large  fortin  of  silver  and  gold. 
{Spoken.') — Two  shares  in  the  Railroad  to  the  moon. 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Chorius. — Which  I  sing  by  myself,  in  consequence  of  the 
exorbitant  price  of  Italian  singers. 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Now  as  Dinah  was  walking  in  the  garden  one  day, 
[The  front  garding.] 

Her  papa  came  up  to  her  and  to  her  did  say  : 
"  Go  dress  yourself,  Dinah,  in  gorgeous  array, 

[Take  your  hair  out  of  paper,  and  put  on  a  clean  pair  of 
stockings.] 

And  I'll  bring  you  a  husbiand  both  galliant  and  gay  V 

[Ani 
dollars] 


[A  nice  young  man  sixty  years  old,  worth  seven  million- 
th 


Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 


318  COMIC   SONGS. 

Chorius. — In  favor  of  the  parient' s  desire,  and  the  wedding 
breakfast  he  had  ordered  for  forty-two  bridesmaids  and  their 
beaux. 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

[Now  this  is  what  the  infant  progeny  said  in  reply  to  the 
horthur  of  her  being.] 

11  Oh,  papa,  oh,  papa,"  [Papa  is  the  French  for  Father.] 
"  Oh,  papa,  oh,  papa,  I've  not  made  up  my  mind, 
To  marry  just  now,  why  I  don't  feel  inclined; 

[She  wanted  to  go  to  a  fashionable  watering  place  first.] 
And  all  my  large  fortin  I'll  gladly  give  o'er, 
If  you'll  let  me  live  single  a  year  or  two  more." 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

"Wheedling  and  persuasive  Chorius — on  behalf  of  the  off- 
spring's remonstrance  to  the  horthur  of  her  being. 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

[Now  this  is  the  way  the  parricidal  papa  spoke,  parentheti- 
cally and  paregorically,  to  his  daughter.] 

"  Go,  go  !  boldest  daughter,"  the  parient  he  cried  ; 
"If  you  won't  consent  to  be  this  here  young  man's  bride, 
I'll  give  your  large  fortin  to  nearest  of  kin, 
And  you  -shan't  reap  the  benefit  of  one  single  nickel." 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Chorius  of  the  enraged  parient  against  the  progeny. 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

[Now  this  is  the  most  melancholy  part  of  it,  and  shows 
what  the  progeny  was  druv  to  in  consequence  of  the  mingled 
ferocity  of  the  inconsiderable  parient.] 

As  Vilikins  was  a  walking  the  garding  around, 
[This  was  the  back  garding  vere  the  cabbiges  growed.] 
He  saw  his  dear  Dinah  lying  dead  on  the  ground, 
With  a  cup  of  cold  pison  lying  down  by  her  side. 
With  a  billet  dux  which  said  as  how  'twas  by  pison  she  died, 
[Genuine,  original  Schiedam  Schnapps.] 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Chorius. — Expressive  of  the  genuine  original  Schiedam. 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 


COMIC   SONGS.  319 

[This  here  is  what  the  lovyer  did  on  the  diskivery.] 

He  kissed  her  cold  corpus  a  thousand  times  o'er, 

And  called  her  his  Dinah  though  she  was  no  more; 

Then  swallowed  the  pison   [the  Schnapps,  without  the  least 

bit  of  bitters  in  it,]  like  a  lovyer  so  brave, 
And  Vilikins  and  his  Dinah  are  both  laid  in  one  grave. 

[The  reverend  paricut  struck  with  remorse  had  them  both 
planted  together.] 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Dismal,  duplicate,  defunct  Chorius — in  consequence  of  the 
double  event. 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

MORIALE. 

Now  all  you  young  men,  don't  you  thus  fall  in  love,  nor 
Do  not  by  no  means,  disobey  your  guv'nor ; 
And  all  you  young  maidens,  mind  who  you  clap  eyes  on— 
Think  of  Vilikins  and  his  Dinah,  not  forgetting  the  pison. 

[Excepting  a  drop  now  and  then  as  a  setter  up.] 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Moriale  Chorius — fearfully  impressive. 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

[Now  this  is  the  superlativelely  supernatural  visitation 
which  appeared  to  the  parient  at  midnight,  after  the  disease 
of  his  only  progeny.] 

At  twelve  the  next  night,  by  a  tall  popular  tree, 
The  ghost  of  Miss  Dinah  the  parient  did  see, 

[The  old  gentleman  was  on  the  lookout  for  the  comet.] 

Arm  in  arm  with  her  Villikins,  and  both  looking  blue, 
Saying,  "  We  wouldn't  have  been  pisoncd  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
you." 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Sepulchural  Chorius — to  astonish  the  weak  nerves  of  the 
parient. 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 


320  COMIC    SONGS. 

[The  parient's  fate,  and  what  he  thought  he  would  do,  but 
he  didn't.] 

Now  the  parient  was  struck  with  horror  of  home, 
So  he  seized  his  carpet  bag,  [and  crammed  in  an  old  pair  of 
suspenders  and  a  bootjack,]  around  the  wide  world  to 
roam ; 
But  as  he  was  starting  he  was  seized  with  a  shiver, 
Which  shook  him  to  pieces  and  ended  him  foriver. 

[And  those  who  came  to  pick  up  the  bits  could  only  sing,] 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Sympathetic  Chorius — for  the  parient's  fragments,  though 
the  verdict  of  the  jury  what  sot  on  him  was  "  Sarved  him 
right." 

Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

ANOTHER   MORIALE,  NO.  2. 

Now  the  Moriale  is  this — No.  1  is  not  reckoned ; 
So  this  is  the  first  Moriale  though  it  comes  the  second; 
You  may  learn  from  my  story  which  is  true  every  word, 
All  this  wouldn't  have  happened  if  it  hadn't  have  occurred. 
[And  there  wouldn't  have  been  no  occasion  for  singing,] 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 

Conclusive  Chorius  of  everybody, 
Too  ral  li,  too  ral  li  da. 


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400  pages,  i2mo.     Price  $1.25. 

MEMOIRS  OF  ROBERT  HOUDIN, 

The  celebrated  French  Conjuror.  Translated  from  the  French. 
With  a  copious  Index.  By  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie.  This 
book  is  full  of  interesting  and  entertaining  anecdotes  of  the  great 
Wizard,  and  gives  descriptions  of  the  manner  of  performing 
many  of  his  most  curious  tricks  and  transformations.  1 2mo., 
cloth.     Price  §1.00. 

LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  DAVID  CROCKETT. 

Written  by  himself,  with  Notes  and  Additions.  Splendidly  illus- 
trated with  engravings,  from  original  designs.  By  George  G. 
White,      i  zmo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  DANIEL  BOONE. 

Including  an  account  of  the  Early  Settlements  of  Kentucky.  By 
Cecil  B.^Hartley.  With  splendid  illustrations,  from  original 
drawings  by  George  G.  White.      i2mo.,  cloth.      Price  $1.00. 

LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Together  with  Biographical  Sketches  of  Simon  Kenton,  Benjamin 
Logan,  Samuel  Brady,  Isaac  Shelby,  and  other  distinguished 
Warriors  and  Hunters  of  the  West.  By  Cecil  B.  Hartley. 
With  splendid  illustrations,  from  original  drawings  by  George 
G.  White.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF   GENERAL   FRANCIS    MARION, 

The   Hero  of  the  American  Revolution  ;  giving  full  accounts  oi 

his  many  perilous  adventures  and   hair-breadth  escapes  amongst 

the  British  and  Tories  in  the  Southern  States,  during  the  struggle 

for  liberty.     By  W.  Gilmore  Simms.     i2mo.,  cloth.     $i.oo. 


6  LIST    OF    BOOKS    FUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS. 

LIFE  OF  GENERAL  SAMUEL  HOUSTON, 

The  Hunter,  Patriot,  and  Statesman  of  Texas.     With  nine  iliuo 
trations.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

LIVES    OF    GENERAL    HENRY    LEE    AND    GENERAL 
THOMAS    SUMPTER. 

Comprising  a  History  of  the  War  in  the  Southern  Department  of 
the  United  States.     Illustrated,  i2mo,  cloth.     Si.oo. 

DARING  &  HEROIC  DEEDS  OF  AMERICAN  WOMEN. 

Comprising  Thrilling  Examples  of  Courage,  Fortitude,  Devoted- 
ness,  and  Self-Sacrifice,  among  the  Pioneer  Mothers  of  the 
Western  Country.     By  John  Frost,  LL.D.     Price  $1.00. 

LIVES  OF  FEMALE  MORMONS. 

A  Narrative  of  facts  Stranger  than  Fiction.  By  Metta  Victoria 
Fuller.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

LIVES  OF  ILLUSTRIOUS  WOMEN  OF  ALL  AGES. 

Containing  the  Empress  Josephine,  Lady  Jane  Gray,  Beatrice 
Cenci,  Joan  of  Arc,  Anne  Boleyn,  Charlotte  Corday,  Zenobia, 
&c,  &c.  Embellished  with  Fine  Steel  Portraits.  i2mo.,  cloth. 
Price  $1.00. 

THE  LIVES  AND  EXPLOITS  OF  THE  MOST  NOTED 
BUCCANEERS  &  PIRATES  OF  ALL  COUNTRIES. 

Handsomely  illustrated.      I  vol.     Cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

HIGHWAYMEN,   ROBBERS   AND   BANDITTI   OF   ALL 
COUNTRIES. 

With  Colored  and  other  Engravings.  Handsomely  bound  in  one 
volume.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

HEROES  AND  PATRIOTS  OF  THE  SOUTH; 

Comprising  Lives  of  General  Francis  Marion,  General  William 
Moultrie,  General  Andrew  Pickens,  and  Governor  John 
Rutledge.  By  Cecil  B.  Hartley.  Illustrated,  i2mo.,  cloth, 
Price  $1.00. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    C.     C.    EVANS. 


KIT   CARSON. 

Life  of  Christopher  Carson,  the  celebrated  Rocky  Mountain 
Hunter,  Trapper  and  Guide,  with  a  full  description  of  his 
Hunting  Exploits,  Hair-breadth  Escapes,  and  adventures  with 
the  Indians ;  together  with  his  services  rendered  the  United 
States  Government,  as  Guide  to  the  various  Exploring  Expedi- 
tions under  John  C  Fremont  and  others.  By  Charles  Burdett. 
With  six  illustrations.      121110.,  cloth.     Price  61.00. 

THE    LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

By  S.  M.  Smucker,  LL.D.,  author  of  "  The  Life  of  Thomas 
Jefferson,"  "Life  of  Alexander  Hamilton/'  etc.,  etc.  i2mo., 
cloth,  with  Steel  Portrait.     Price  $1.00. 

THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  HENRY  CLAY. 

By  S.  M.  Smucker,  LL.D.,  author  of  the  "Lives  of  Washington," 
"Jefferson,"  etc.      1  2mo.,  cloth,  Steel  Portrait.     Price  $1.00. 

LIFE  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON. 

Containing  an  Authentic  History  of  the  Memorable  Achievements 
of  the  American  Army  under  General  Jackson,  before  New- 
Orleans.     By  Alexander  Walker.    i2mo.,  cloth.    Price  $1.00. 

LIFE   OF   BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN. 

By  O.  L.  Holley.  With  Steel  Portrait  and  six  Illustrations. 
i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

LIVES  OF  THE  SIGNERS  OF  THE  DECLARATION  OF 
•  AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE. 

By  B.  J.  Lossing.  Steel  Frontispiece,  and  fifty  portraits.  i2mo., 
cloth.     Price  81.00. 

LIFE  OF  CAPT.   JOHN   SMITH  OF  VIRGINIA. 
By  W.  Gillmore  Simm3.     Illustrated,  i2mo.,  cloth,  Price,  $1   00. 

THE   THREE    MRS.  JUDSONS, 

The  Fernal^^issionaries.     By   C  .^n.   b.   Hartley.     A  new  and 
iition,  with  steel   portraits.      l2mo.      Price, 
$1    00. 


k 


LIST   OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.     G.    EVANS. 


INGRAHAM'S   THREE   GREAT   WORKS. 


THE 

Prince  of  the  House  of  David; 

Or,  Three  Years  in  the  Holy  City.  Being  a  series  of  the  let- 
ters of  Adina,  a  Jewess  of  Alexandria,  supposed  to  be  sojourning 
in  Jerusalem  in  the  days  of  Herod,  addressed  to  her  Father  a 
wealthy  Jew  in  Egypt,  and  relating,  as  if  by  an  eye-witness,  all 
the  scenes  and  wonderful  incidents  in  the  life  of  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth, from  his  Baptism  in  Jordan  to  his  Crucifixion  on  Calvary. 
New  edition,  carefully  revised  and  corrected  by  the  author, 
Rev.  J.  H.  Ingraham,  LL.D.,  Rector  of  Christ  Church,  and 
St.  Thomas'  Hall,  Holly  Springs,  Miss.  With  five  splendid 
illustrations,  one  large  i2mo.,  volume,  cloth.  Price,  $i  25. 
Full  Gilt  sides  and  edges.  Price  $2.00. 
The  same  work  in  German.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price,  $1.25. 

THE    PILLAR    OF    FIRE; 

Or,  Israel  in  Bondage.  Being  an  account  of  the  Wonderful 
Scenes  in  the  Life  of  the  Son  of  Pharaoh's  Daughter,  (Moses). 
Together  with  Picturesque  Sketches  of  the  Hebrews  under  their 
Task-masters.  By  Rev.  J.  H.  Ingraham,  LLD.,  author  of  the 
"  Prince  of  the  House  of  David."  With  steel  Frontispiece. 
Large  i2mo.,  cloth.  Price,  $1  25;  the  same  work,  full  gilt 
sides  and  edges.      Price,  $2  00. 

THE  THRONE   OF   DAVID; 

F"om  the  Consecration  of  the  Shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  to  the  Re- 
bellion of  Prince  Absalom  Being  an  illustration  of  the  Splendor, 
Power  and  Dominion  of  the  Reign  of  the  Shepherd,  Poet, 
Warrior,  King  and  Prophet,  Ancestor  and  type  of  Jesus,  address- 
ed by  an  Assyrian  Ambassador,  resident  at  the  Court  of  Jeru- 
salem, to  his  Lord  and  King  on  the  Throne  of  Nineveh;  where- 
in the  magnificence  of  Assyria,  as  well  as  the  magnificence  of 
Judea,  is  presented  to  the  reader  as  by  an  eye-witness.  By  the 
Rev  J.  H.  Ingraham,  LL.D.,  Rector  of  Christ  Church  and 
St.  Thomas'  Hall,  Holly  Springs,  Miss.,  author  of  the  "  Prince 
of  the  House  of  David"  and  the  "  Pillar  of  Fire."  With  five 
splendid  illustrations.  Large  1 2mo.,  cloth.  Price  $1  25;  the 
same  work,  full  gilt  sides  and  edges.     Price,  $2  00. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS. 


♦ 


The   Sunny   South ; 


OR, 


THE  SOUTHERNER  AT  HOME 


EMBRACING 


Five  years' experience  of  a  Northern  Governess  in  the  Land  of  the 
Sugar  and  the  Cotton.  Edited  by  Professor  J.  H.  Ingraham, 
of  Miss.     Large  izmo.,  cloth.     Price,  $i    25. 


A  BUDGET  OF 

HUMOROUS    POETRY, 


COMPRISING 


Specimens  of  the  best  and  most  Humorous  Productions  of  the 
popular  American  and  Foreign  Poetical  Writers  of  the  day. 
By  the  author  of  the  "  Book  of  Anecdotes  and  Budget  of 
Fun."     One  volume,  1  zrno.,  cloth.     Price  $1    00. 


The  World  in  a  Pocket  Book. 


BY 


WILLIAM    H.    CRUMP. 

NEW    AND    REVISED    EDITION,    BROUGHT    DOWN    TO 

i860. 

This  work  is  a  Compendium  of  Useful  Knowledge  and  General 
Reference,  dedicated  to  the  Manufacturers  Farmers,  Merchants, 
and  Mechanics  of  the  United  States — to  all,  in  short,  with  whom 
time  is  money— -and  whose  business  avoca  ions  render  the  acqui- 
sition of  extensive  and  diversified  information  desirable,  by  the 
shortest  possible  road.  This  volume,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  found 
worth. v  or  a  place  in  every  housd^^fcjj^ family.  It 
may  indeed  be  termed  a  library  in  itself.     Large  i2mo.     Price, 


< 


IO  LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS. 

THE  SPIRIT  LAND. 
l2mo.,  cloth,  with  Mezzotint  Engraving.     Price  $1.00. 

"  These  pages  are  submitted  to  the  public  with  the  counsel  of  the  wisert 
and  best  of  all  ages,  that  amid  the  wiley  arts  of  the  Adversary,  we  should  cling 
to  the  word  of  God,  the  Bible,  as  the  only  safe  and  infallible  guide  of  Faith 
and  Practice." 

THE  MORNING  STAR ;  or,  Symbols  of  Christ. 

By  Re\    Wm.  M.  Thayer,  author  of  "  Hints  for  the  Household," 
"  Pastor's  Holiday  Gift,"&c,  &c.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00 

"  The  symbolical  parts  of  Scriptures  are  invested  with  peculiar  attractions. 
A  familiar  acquaintance  with  them  can  scarcely  fail  to  increase  respect  and 
love  for  the  Bible." 

SWEET  HOME ;  or,  Friendship's  Golden  Altar. 

By  Frances  C.  Percival.     Mezzotint   Frontispiece,  izmo.,  cloth, 
gilt  back  and  centre.     Price  $1.00. 

"The  object  of  this  book  is  to  awaken  the  Memories  of  Home — to  remind 
as  of  the  old  Scenes  and  old  Times." 

THE  DESERTED  FAMILY  ; 

Or,  the  Wanderings  of  an  Outcast.     By  Paul  Creyton.    i  2mo., 
cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

"An  interesting  story,  which  might  exert  a  good  influence  in  softening  the 
heart,  warming  the  affections,  and  elevating  the  soul." 

ANNA    CLAYTON;    or,  the  Mother's  Trial 
A  Tale  of  Real  Life.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

"  The  principal  characters  in  this  tale  are  drawn  from  real  life — imagina- 
tion cannot  picture  deeper  shades  of  sadness,  higher  or  more  exquisite  joys, 
than  Truth  has  woven  for  us,  in  the  Mother's  Trial." 

"  FASHIONABLE    DISSIPATION." 

By  Metta  V.  Fuller.     Mezzotint  Frontispiece,  izmo.,  bound  in 
cloth,     Price  $1.00. 

THE    OLD    FARM    HOUSE.         ^^^ 

By  Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Butler  Laing,  with  six  splendid  Illustra- 
tions.     i2mo.,  cloth,  Price  $1.00. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    O.   O.  EVANB. 


"  TO    THE    PURE    ALL    THINGS    ARE    PURE." 

WOMAN   AND   HER   DISEASES. 

From  the  Cradle  to  the  Grave  ;  adapted  exclusively  to  her  instruc- 
tion in  the  Physiology  of  her  system,  and  all  the  Diseases  of  her 
Critical  Periods.  By  Edward  H.  Dixon,  M.D.  i2mo.  Price 
$1.00. 

DR.  LIVINGSTONE'S  TRAVELS  AND  RESEARCHES 
OF  SIXTEEN  YEARS  IN  THE  WILDS  OF  SOUTH 
AFRICA. 

One  volume,  izmo.,  cloth,  fine  edition,  printed  upon  superior 
paper,  with  numerous  illustrations.  Price  $1.25.  Cheap  edi- 
tion, price  $1.00. 

This  is  a  work  of  thrilling  adventures  and  hair-breadth  escapes  among 
savage  beasts,  and  more  savage  men.  Dr.  Livingstone  was  alone,  and  unaid- 
ed by  any  white  man,  traveling  only  with  African  attendants,  among  different 
tribes  and  nations,  all  strange  to  him,  and  many  of  them  hostile,  and  alto- 
gether forming  the  most  astonishing  book  of  travels  the  world  has  ever 
seen.     All  acknowledge  it  is  the  most  readable  book  published. 

ANDERSSON'S   EXPLORATIONS  AND  DISCOVERIES. 

Giving  accounts  of  many  P<ar'1ous  Adventures,  and  Thrilling  Inci- 
dents, during  Four  Years'  Wanderings  in  the  Wilds  of  South 
Western  •Africa.  By  C.  J.  Andersson,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.  With 
an  Introductory  Letter,  by  J.  C.  Fremont.  One  volume,  i2mo., 
cloth.  With  Numerous  Illustrations,  representing  Sporting 
Adventures,  Subjects  of  Natural  History,  Devices  for  Destroy- 
ing Wild  Animals,  etc.     Price  $1.25. 

INDIA  AND  THE  INDIAN  MUTINY. 

Comprising  a  Complete  History  of  Hindoostan,  from  the  earlier 
times  to    the  present  day,  with  full  particulars  of  the    Recent 
Mutiny   in  India.     Illustrated  with  numerous  engravings.     By 
Henry   Frederick  Malcom.     This  work  has  been    gotten    up 
with  great  care,  and  may  be  relied  on  as  Complete  and  Accu- 
ral ;  :\  v 
lished.     It   contain                  ions    of  , 
Sieges,  making   a  large    izmo.,  volume  of  about    4.5^ 
Price  $1.25. 


i 


h 


12  LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.  G.  EVANS. 


SEVEN  YEARS  IN  THE  WILDS  OF  SIBERIA, 

A  Narrative  of  Seven  Years'  Explorations  and  Adventures  in 
Oriental  and  Western  Siberia,  Mongolia,  the  Kir  his  Steppes, 
Chinese  Tartary,  and  Part  of  Central  Asia.  By  Thomas 
William  Atkinson.  With  numerous  Illustrations.  i2mo.,  clcth, 
price  $1.25. 

SIX  YEARS  IN  NORTHERN  AND  CENTRAL  AFRICA. 

Travels  and  Discoveries  in  North  and  Central  Africa,  being  a 
Journal  of  an  Expedition  undertaken  under  the  auspices  of 
H.  B.  M.'s  Government,  in  the  years  1 849-1  855.  By  Henry 
Barth,  Ph.  D.,  D.C.L.,  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Geographical  and 
Asiatic  Societies,  &c,  &c.      i2mo.,v  cloth,  price  $1.25. 

THREE  VISITS   TO  MADAGASCAR 

During  the  years  1853,  1854,  1856,  including  a  journey  to  the 
Capital  ;  with  notices  of  the  Natural  History  of  the  Country 
and  of  the  present  Civilization  of  the  People,  by  the  Rev.  Wm. 
Ellis,  F.H.S.,  author  of  "  Polynesian  Researches."  Illustrated 
by  engravings  from  photographs,  Sec.      i2mo.,  cloth.     $1  25. 

CAPT.  COOK'S  VOYAGES  ROUND  THE  WORLD. 

One  volume,  i2mo.,  cloth.   .  Price  $1.00. 

BOOK  OF  ANECDOTES  AND  BUDGET  OF  FUN. 

Containing  a  collection  of  over  One  Thousand  Laughable  Sayings, 
Rich  Jokes,  etc.      i2mo.,  cloth,  extra  gilt  back,  $1.00. 

"Nothing  is  so  well   calculated  to  preserve  the  healthful  action   of  the 
human  system  as  a  good  hearty  laugh." 

BOOK  OF  PLAYS  FOR  HOME  AMUSEMENT. 

Being  a  collection  of  Original,  Altered  and  well-selected  Tragedies, 
Comedies,  Dramas,  Farces,  Burlesques,  Charades,  Comic  Lec- 
tures, etc.  Carefully  arranged  and  specially  adapted  for  Private 
Representation,  with  full  directions  for  Performance.  By  Silas 
S.  Steele,  Dramatist.     One  volume,  1 2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $!  .00. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS.  I J 

A  HISTORY  OF  ITALY, 

AND  THE  WAR  OF  1859. 

G.ving  the  causes  of  the  War,  with  Biographical  Sketches  of  Sov- 
eieigns,  Statesmen  and  Military  Commanders;  Descriptions  and 
Statistics  of  the  Country  ;  with  finely  engTaved  Portraits  of  Louis 
Napoleon,  Emperor  of  France  Frances  Joseph,  Emperor  of 
Austria ;  Victor  Emanuel,  King  of  Sardinia,  and  Garribaldi,  the 
Champion  of  Italian  Freedom.  Together  with  the  official  ac- 
counts of  the  Battles  of  Montebello,  Palestro,  Magenta,  Maleg- 
nano,  Solferino,  etc.,  etc.,  and  Maps  of  Italy,  Austria,  and  all 
the    adjacent  Countries,  by 

MADAME  JULIE  DE  MARGUERITTES. 

With  an  introduction  by  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie,  one  volume, 
i2mo.,  cloth,  price  S1.25. 

From  the  New  York  Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"  This  is  an  able,  interesting  and  lively  account  of  the  "War  and  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  it.  The  author's  residence  in  Europe  has  given  her 
facilities  fur  preparing  the  volume  which  add  much  to  its  value. 

"  Nut  unly  does  she  give  a  description  of  Italy  in  general,  but  of  each  Sov- 
ereignty, and  State,  shuwing  the  Extent,  Resources,  Power  and  Political  sit- 
uation of  each.  Throughout  the  volume  are  found  Anecdotes,  Recollections, 
and  even  Ondits,  which  contribute  to  its  interest." 

THE  BOOK  OF  POPULAR  SONGS. 

Being  a  compendium  of  the  best  Sentimental,  Comic,  Negro,  Nation- 
al, Patriotic,  Military,  Naval,  Social,  Convivial,  and  Pathetic 
Ballads  and  Melodies,  as  sung  by  the  most  celebrated  Opeia 
Singers,  Negro  Minstrels,  and  Comic  Vocalists  of  the  day. 

One  volume,  i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

THE  AMERICAN  PRACTICAL  COOKERY  BOOK; 

Or    Housekeeping  made  easy,  pleasant,  and  econmical  in  all  its 

departmenr|k    T^Mhjchare  added  directions  for   setting  out 

js,  and    giving  Entertainments.     Directions    tor    Jointing, 

Trussing,    and  Carving,    and  many  hundred  new  Receipts    in 

and    Housekeeping.      With    50  engravings.      i2mo., 

cloth.     Price  $1.00. 


i 


14  LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY  G.    G.    EVANS. 


RECORDS   OF  THE   REVOLUTIONARY  WAR. 

Containing  the  Military  and  Financial  Correspondence  of  distin- 
guished officers;  names  of  the  officers  and  privates  of  regiments, 
companies  and  corps,  with  the  dates  of  their  commissions  and 
enlistments.  General  orders  of  Washington,  Lee,  and  Green  ; 
with  a  list  of  distinguished  prisoners  of  war  ;  the  time  of  their 
capture,  exchange,  etc. ;  to  which  is  added  the  half-pay  acts  of 
the  Continental  Congress ;  the  Revolutionary  pension  laws ;  and 
a  list  of  the  officers  of  the  Continental  army  who  acquired  the 
right  to  half-pay,  commutation,  and  lands,  &c.  By  T.  W.  Saf- 
fell.     Large    i2mo.,  $1.25. 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Being  a  history  of  the  personal  adventures,  romantic  incidents  and 
exploits  incidental  to  the  War  of  Independence — with  tinted 
illustrations.     Large  i2mo.,  $1.25. 

THE  QUEEN'S  FATE. 

A  talc  of  the  days  of  Herod,  izmo.,  cloth,  with  Steel  Illustra- 
tions.    $1.00. 

"A  recital  of  events,  of  an  awe-arousing  period,  in  a  familiar  and  interest- 
ing manner." 

"LIVING  AND  LOVING." 

A  collection  of  Sketches.  By  Miss  Virginia  F.  Townsend. — 
Large  1 2mo.,  with  fine  steel  portrait  of  the  author.  Bound  in 
cluth.     Price  81.00. 

We  might  say  many  things  in  favor  of  this  delightful  publication,  but  we 
deem  it  unnecessary.  Husbands  should  buy  it  for  their  wives  :  lovers  should 
buy  it  for  their  sweet-hearts  :  friends  should  buy  it  for  their  friends. — Godey's 
Lady's  Book, 

WHILE  IT  WAS  MORNING. 

By  Virginia  F.  Townsend,  author  of  "  Living  and  Loving." 
i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

THE  ANGEL  VISITOR;  or,  Voices  of  the  Heart. 
i2mo.,  cloth,  with  Mezzotint  Engraving.      Price  $1.00. 
"  The  mission  of  this  volume  is  to  aid  in  doing  good  to  those  in  afflictioa.* 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.     G.    EVANS.  15 


THE  LADIES'  HAND  BOOK 

OF 

Fancy  and  Ornamental  Needle-Work. 

COMPRISING 

Full  directions  with  patterns  for  working  in  Embroidery,  Applique, 
Braiding,  Crochet,  Knitting,  Netting,  Tatting,  Quilting,  Tam- 
bour aud  Gobelin  Tapestry,  Brodcrie  Anglaise,  Guipure  Work, 
Canvass  Work,  Worsted  Work,  Lace  Work,  Bead  Work, 
Stitching,  Patch  Work,  Frivolite,  &c.  Illustrated  with  262 
Engraved  Patterns,  taken  from  original  designs.  By  Miss 
Florence  Hartley.  One  volume,  Quarto  Cloth.  Price, 
$1   25. 


The   Ladies'    Book   of   Etiquette, 

AND 

MANUAL   OF   POLITENESS. 


A    Hand    Book    for    the    use   of  Ladies    in    Polite   Society.     By 
Florence  Hartley.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price,  §1   00. 


The   Gentlemen's   Book   of   Etiquette. 


.MANUAL    OF   POLITENESS. 

Being  a  Complete  Guide  for  a  Gentleman's  Conduct   in  his 

na    toward    Society.      By    Cecil    B.     Hartley.      121110. 
Price,  $1    00.  ■ 


t 


I 


I 


1 6  LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.  G.    EVANS. 


LECTURES   FOR   THE    PEOPLE: 

BY  THE 

Rev.    H.    STOWELL   BROWN, 

Of  the  Myrtle  Street  Baptist  Chapel,  Liverpool,  England. 

First  Series,  published  under  a  special  arrangement  with  the  author. 
With  a  Biographical  introduction  by  Dr.  R.  Shelton  Mackenzie. 
With  a  splendidly  engraved  Steel  Portrait.  One  vol.,  414  pages. 
i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

.Mr.  Brown's  lectures  fill  an  important  place,  for  which  we  have  no  other 
book.  The  style  is  clear,  the  spirit  is  kind,  the  reasoning  careful,  and  the 
argument  conclusive.  We  are  persuaded  that  this  book  will  render  more 
good  than  any  book  of  sermons  or  lectures  that  have  been  published  in  this 
l'Jth  century. — Liverpool  Mercury. 

THE  HOME  BOOK  OF  HEALTH  AND  MEDICINE; 

Or,  The  Laws  and  Means  of  Physical  Culture,  adapted  to 
practical  use.  Embracing  a  treatise  on  Dyspepsia,  Digestion, 
Breathing,  Ventilation,  Laws  of  the  Skin,  Consumption,  how 
prevented ;  Clothing,  Food,  Exercise,  Rest,  &c.  By  W.  A. 
Alcott,  M.  D.  With  31  illustrations,  Large  i2mo.  Price, 
$1.25. 

LIFE  OF  THE., EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE, 

First  Wife  of  Napoleon  I.  Illustrated  with  Steel  Portraits.  •By 
J.  T.  Laurens,  author  of  "Heroes  and  Patriots  of  the  South." 
l2mo.  cloth.      Price,  $1.00. 

LIVES    OF    THE    HEROES    OF    THE    AMERICAN 
REVOLUTION. 

Comprising  the  Lives  of  Washington  and  his  Generals.  The 
Declaration  of  Independence.  ■  The  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  The  Inaugural,  First  Annual. and  Farewell  Addresses 
of  Washington.     With  Portraits.     i2mo.,  cloth.      Price  $1.00 

fDT.TTMBA.JV  Tale  of  Corsica. 

By  Prosper  Merimee.  As  a  picture  of  Corsican  life  and  manners, 
Coiumba  is  unequalled.    In  one  handsome  volume.    Price  $1.00 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.  G.   EVANS.  17 

LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS  OF  A  PASTOR'S  LIFE. 
By  S.   H.  Elliott.     One  volume,   izmo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00 

"  This  is  a  well-written,  highly  instructive  hook.  It  is  a  story  of  the  life- 
teachings,  and  life-trials  of  a  good  man,  whose  great  aim  was  to  elevate, 
morally  and  intellectually,' his  fellow-men.  Like  many  of  his  nature  and 
temperament,  some  of  his  views  were  Utopian.  But  his  successes  and 
failures,  with  the  causes  of  these,  are  painted  with  a  masterly  hand.  There 
is  unusual  strength  aad  vitality  in  this  volume." 

THREE   PER    CENT.  A  MONTH; 

Or,  the    Perils  of  Fast   Living.     A  Warning  to  Young  Men. 
By  Chas.  Burdett.    One  volume,  izmo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

"The  style  of  this  book  is  direct  and  effective,  particularly  fitting  the 
impression  which  such  a  story  should  make.  It  is  a  very  spirited  and  in- 
structive tale,  leaving  a  good  impression  both  upon  the  reader's  sensibilities 
and  morals." 

EVENINGS  AT   HOME; 

Or,  Tales   for   the  Fireside.      By  Jane   C.  Campbell.      One 

volume,  izmo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

"  We  know  of  no  book  in  the  whole  range  of  modern  fictitious  literature 
we  would  sooner  select  for  a  delightful  and  instructive  companion." 

RURAL   LIFE; 

Or,  Prose  and  Poetry  of  the  Woods  and  Fields.     By  Harry 
Penciller.     One  volume,  cloth,   izmo.      Price  $1.00. 

"  Beautiful  landscapes,  family  scenes  and  conversations,  rural  sketches  of 
woods  and  vales,  of  the  beauties  of  verdant  fields  and  fragrant  flowers,  of 
the  music  of  birds  and  running  brooks,  all  described  in  an  original  and  un- 
studied manner,  which  cannot  fail  to  delight  every  one  whose  character  is 
imbued  with  a  love  of  nature." 

JOYS   AND   SORROWS   OF   HOME; 
An    Autobiography.      By  Anna  Leland.     One  volume,  izmo.. 


I 


'This  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  domestic  stories  we  have  ever  read, 
••iy  irtereating,  with  a  natural  flow  and  easiness  which  leads  the  rei  I.  r 
cptibly  on  to  the  close,  and  then  leaves  a  regret  that  tuo  tale  i 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY  G.    G.    EVANS. 


i 


BEAUTY   OF   WOMAN'S   FAITH; 

A  Tale  of  Southern  Life.     One  volume,  i2mo.,  cloth.     Price 
.    $i  od. 

«  This  volume  contains  the  story  of  a  French  Emigrant,  who  first  escaped 
to  England,  and  afterward  settled  on  a  plantation  in  Louisiana.  It  is  charm- 
ingly told,  and  the  strength  and  endurance  of  woman's  faith  well  illustrated." 

THE    ORPHAN    BOY; 

Or,  Lichts  and  Shadows  of  Northern  Life.     By  Jeremy  Loud. 
One  volume,  121110.,  cloth.     Price  §1.00. 

"This  is  a  work  illustrating  the  passions  and  pleasures,  the  trials  and  tri- 
umphs of  common  life;  it  is  well  written  and. the  interest  is  admirably  sus- 
tained." 

THE    ORPHAN    GIRLS; 

A  Tale  of  Life  in  the  South.     By  James  S.  Peacock,  M.D.4 
of  Mississippi.     One  volume,  i2mo.,  cloth."   Price  $1.00. 

"The  style  is  fluent  and  unforced,  the  description  of  character  well  limned, 
and  the  pictures  of  scenery  forcible  and  felicitous.  There  is  a  natural  con- 
veyance of  incidents  to  the  denouement,  and  the  reader  closes  the  volume  with 
an  increased  regard  for  the  talent  and  spirit  of  tho  author." 

NEW    ENGLAND    BOYS; 

Or,  the  Three  Apprentices.     By  A.  L.  Stimson.     One  volume, 
i2mo.,  Cloth.     Price  $1  00. 

"  This  is  a  very  agreeable  book,  written  in  a  dashing  independent  style.  The 
incidents  are  numerous  and  striking,  the  characters  life-like,  and  the  plot 
sufficiently  captivating  to  enchain  the  reader's  attention  to  the  end  of  the 
volume." 

THE    KING'S   ADVOCATE; 

Or,  the  Adventures  of  a  Witch  Finder.     One  volume,  i2rao., 
cloth.    Price  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  book  so  thoroughly  excellent,  so  exalte 
of  exquisite  picures  of  society,. and  manifesting  si 

i.uman  nature,  that  no  one  can  p 
ting  it  tu  be,  in  every  way,  a  noble  book.     The  story,  too,  is  one  of  e 
interest;  and  it  either  sweeps  you  along  with  its  powerful  spell,  or  beguiles 
you  with  its  tenderness,  pathos  and  geniality." 


LIST    OP    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS. 


SIBYL  MONROE;  or,  THE  FORGER'S  DAUGHTER. 
By  Martha  Russell.     One  volume,  i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

u  It  is  a  spirited,  charming  story,  full  of  adventure,  friendship  and  love,  with 
characters  nicely  drawn  and  carefully  discriminated.  The  clear  style  and 
■pirit  with  which  the  story  is  presented  and  the  characters  developed,  wiU 
attract  a  large  constituency  to  the  perusal." 

THE    OPEN    BIBLE; 

As  shown  in  the  History  of  Christianity,  from*  the  time  of  our 
Saviour  to  the  Present  Day.  By  Vincent  W.  Millner.  With 
a  view  of  the  latest  developments  of  Rome's  hostility  to  the 
Bible,  as  exhibited  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  in  Tuscany,  in 
Ireland,  France,  &c,  and  an  expose  of  the  absurdities  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception,  and  the  Idolatrous  Veneration  of  the 
Virgin  Mary.  By  Rev.  Joseph  F.  Berg,  D.  D.,  author  of 
"The  Jesuits,"  "Church  and  State,"  &c,  &c.  Illustrated  with 
numerous  Engravings.      i2mo.,  cloth,  gilt  back.     Price  $1.00. 

LIFE  OF  CHRIST  AND  HIS  APOSTLES. 

By  the  Rev.  John  Fleetwood.     With  a  History  of  the  Jews,  from 
the  Earliest  Period  to  the  Present  Time.      Large  i2mo.,  bound 
in    Cloth.      Illustrated.      Price    $1.00. 
Octavo  edition,  with  steel  engravings.      Turkey  Antique,  $3.50. 

BUNYAN'S    PILGRIM'S    PROGRESS. 

Including,  "Grace  abounding  to  the  Chief  of  Sinners."  Large 
1 2mo.,  500  pages.  Cloth.  Beautifully  Illustrated.  Price$i.oo. 
Octavo  edition,  with  steel  engravings.      Turkey  Antique,  $3.50. 

SCRIPTURE   EMBLEMS   AND   ALLEGORIES. 

Being  a  series  of  Emblematic  Engravings,  with  explanations  and 
religious  reflections,  designed  to  illustrate  Divine  Truth.  By 
Rev    W.   Holmes.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.25. 

■•^^^^^^jQME    MEMORIES; 
'Jr,  Social  half  hours  with  the  Household. 

Octavo,  400  pages.     Illustrated  with  fine    steel  plates.     Cloth, 
Price    $2. 00.     Turkey  Antique,  $3.50. 


JO  LIST   OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    O.  G.  EVANS. 

EVANS'  POPULAR  SPEAKER, 

Lyceum    and   School    Exhibition   Declaimer. 

Comprising  a  Treatise  on  Elocution  and  Gesture,  with  Illustrations, 
and  a  choice  collection  of  pieces  in  Prose  and  Verse,  and  selec 
Dialogues,  specially  adapted  for  School  and  Lyceum  Exhibitions, 
and  Private  Representations.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $l.oo. 

PANORAMA  OF  THE  OLD  WORLD  AND  THE  NEW; 

Comprising  a  view  of  the  present  state  of  the  Nations  of  the  World, 
their  Names,  Customs  and  Peculiarities,  and  their  Political, 
Moral,  Social  and  Industrial  Condition.  Interspersed  with 
Historical  Sketches  and  Anecdotes.  By  William  Pinncck, 
author  of  the  Histories  of  England,  Greece  and  Rome.  Enlarged, 
revised  and  embellished  with  several  hundied  Engravings, 
including  twenty-four  finely  colored  Plates,  from  designs  *  by 
Croome,  Devereux,  and  other  distinguished  artists.  In  one  vol. 
Octavo,  over  600  pages,  bound  in  embossed  morocco,  gilt  back. 
Price  $2.75. 

THRILLING  INCIDENTS  IN  AMERICAN  HISTORY. 

Being  a  selection  of  the  most  important  and  interesting  events  which 
have  transpired  since  the  discovery  of  America  to  the  present 
time.  Compiled  from  the  most  approved  authorities,  new  edition 
enlarged.     Splendidly  illustrated,  i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

THE  HOLY  LAND,  AND  EGYPT,  ARABIA  PETR^EA,  &c. 

Travels  in  Egypt,  Arabia  Petrasa,  and  the  Holy  Land.  By  D. 
Millard.  A  new  and  improved  edition.  Illustrated.  i2mo., 
cloth,     Price  $1.00. 

HUNTING  SCENES  IN   THE  WILDS   OF  AFRICA. 

Comprising  the  Thrilling  Adventures    of  Cummjng,  Harris,  and 
other  daring  Hunters  of  Lions,   Elephants,  GiraiFes,  Buffaloes, 
and  other  Animals.     With  Illustrations.      l2mo.,  cloth, 
back.     Price  $1.00. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    PUBLISHED    BY    0.    0.    EVAW3.  XI 


THE  BATTLE  FIELDS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

Comprising  descriptions  of  the  Different  Battles,  Sieges,  and  other 
Events  of  the  War  of  Independence.  Interspersed  with  Char- 
acteristic Anecdotes.  Illustrated  with  numerous  Engravings, 
and  a  fine  Mezzotint  Frontispiece.  By  Thomas  Y.  Rhoads. 
Large  121110.,  cloth.     Price  $1.25. 

PERILS  AND  PLEASURES  OF  A  HUNTER'S  LIFE. 

With  fine  colored  plates.     Large  izmo.,  cloth.      Price  $1.25. 
From  the  table  of  contents  we  take  the  following  as  samples  ot 
the  style  and  interest  of  the  work  : 

Baiting  for  an  Alligator — Morning  among  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains— Encounter  with  Shoshonees — A  Grizzly  Bear — Fight 
and  terrible  result — Fire  on  the  Mountains — Narrow  Escape 
— The  Beaver  Region — Trapping  Beaver — A  Journey  and 
Hunt  through  New  Mexico — Start  for  South  America — Hunt- 
ing in  the  Forests  of  Brazil — Hunting  on  the  Pampas — A  Hunt- 
ing Expedition  into  the  interior  of  Africa — Chase  of  the  Rhinoc- 
eros— Chase  of  an  Elephant — The  Roar  of  the  Lion — Herds  of 
Wild  Elephants — Lions  attacked  by  Bechuanas — Arrival  in  the 
Region  of  the  Tiger  and  the- Elephant — Our  first  Elephant  Hunt 
in  India — A  Boa  Con-trictor — A  Tiger — A  Lion — Terrible 
Conflict — Elephant  Catching — Hunting  the  Tiger  with  Ele- 
phants— Crossing  the  Pyrenees — Encounter  with  a  Bear — A 
Pigeon  Hunt  on  the  Ohio: — A  Wild  Hog  Hunt  in  Texas- 
Hunting  the  Black-tailed  Deer. 

THRILLING   ADVENTURES  AMONG    THE   INDIANS. 

By  John  Frost,  LL.D.  Comprisimg  the  most  remarkable  Pergonal 
Narratives  of  Events  in  the  Early  Indian  Wars,  as  well  as  of 
Incidents  in  the  recent  Indian  Hostilities  in  Mexico  and  Texas. 
Illustrated  with  over  300  engravings,  from  designs  by  W.  Croome, 
and  other  distinguished  artists.  It  contains  over  500  pages. 
l2mo.,  cloth.      Gilt  back,  $1.25. 

PIONEER  LIFE  IN  THE  WEST. 

Comprising  the  Adventures  of  Boone,  Kelson,  Brady,  Clarke,  the 
Whctzels,  and  others,  in  their  Fierce  Encounters  with  the 
India  h  Illustrations,    i2mo.,  cloth.      Gilt  back.     Price 

$I.OG.  W*. 


tZ  LIST    OF    BOOKS    POLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVAN3. 


McCULLOUGH'S  TEXAN  RANGERS. 

The  Scouting  Expedition  of  McCullough's  Texan  Rangers,  inclu- 
ding Skirmishes  with  the  Mexicans,  and  an  accurate  detail  of 
the  Storming  of  Monterey,  &c,  with  Anecdotes,  Incidents  and 
Description  of  the  Country,  and  Sketches  of  the  lives  of  Hays, 
McCuliough  and  Walker.  By  S.  C.  Reid,  Jr.,  of  Louisiana,  late 
of  the  Texan  Rangers.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

THE  DOOMED  CHIEF. 

Or,  Two  Hundred  Years  Ago.  A  Narrative  of  the  Earliest 
Border  Warfare.  By  D.  B.  Thompson,  author  of  "  Gaut 
Gurley,"  &c.      i2mo.,  cloth.     $1.00. 

HUNTING  SPORTS  IN  THE  WEST. 

Containing  Adventures  of  the  most  celebrated  Hunters  and  Trap- 
pers of  the  West.  Illustrated  with  new  designs.  i2mo.,  cloth. 
$1.00. 

GAUT  GURLEY ; 

Or,  the  Trappers  of  Umbagog.  A  Tale  of  Border  Life.  By  D. 
B.  Thompson,  author  of  "  The  Rangers ;  or,  the  Toiy's  Daugh- 
ter," "Green  Mountain  Boys,"  &c.    i2mo.,  cloth.    Price  $1  00. 

THE  RECOLLECTIONS   OF   A  SOUTHERN   MATRON. 

By  Mrs.   Caroline  Gilman,  of  South  Carolina.      i2mo.,   cloth. 

Price  $1.00. 

"This  volume  is  one  of  those  books  which  are  read  by  all  classes  at  all 
stages  of  life,  with  an  interest  which  looses*  nothing  by  change  or  circum- 
stances." 

THE  ENCHANTED   BEAUTY. 

And  other  Tales  and  Essays.     By  Dr.  Wm.   Elder.      i2mo., 

cloth.     Price  $i.co. 

"  Th'.s  is  a  volume  of  beautiful  and  cogent  essays,  virtuous  in  motive,  simple 
in  expression,  pertinent  and  admirable  in  logic,  and  glorious  in  conclusion 
and  climax." 

THE  CHILD'S  FAIRY  BOOK... 

By  Spencer  W.  Cone.  Containing  a  choice  collection  of  beauti- 
ful  Fairy  Talcs.  Jllustrated  with  Ten  Beautiful  Engravings, 
Spicndid'l)  Colored.      i2mo.,  cloth.     Price  $1. bo. 


